


Psycho Chicken. Qu'est-ce que c'est?

by Dr_Hoffmans_Mechanic



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-28
Updated: 2019-06-08
Packaged: 2020-03-26 08:41:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 31,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19002295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dr_Hoffmans_Mechanic/pseuds/Dr_Hoffmans_Mechanic
Summary: Those blessed souls who were concerned that Clio was going to end up as the only willing woman on Kephallonia to miss out on the Misthios? Patience is rewarded.





	1. Chapter 1

Ladies,” Kassandra grinned, carefully placing what seemed to be the final egg into the basket along with all the others. “May the gods smile on you for your bounty and bless you with many...grubs today,” she stepped back and spotted one last egg far underneath the raised coop.

“Though I reckon they’d bless you even more if you laid them all in the nest boxes instead of making it into a treasure hunt every damn time,” she sighed. She was going to have to scrabble for that last one.

Kassandra got down on her hands and knees and stretched forward to the full extent of her arm. Not quite. Just a few inches short. She was going to have to get her head under there.

It was early and Kassandra was fiercely hungry and, whilst not hungover, definitely aware that she’d drunk a couple of cups too many the night before. But gods that young merchant sailor had been lovely, with her dark skin, lithely muscled body and intense brown eyes. Well worth the cottony mouth and dull head this morning.

If only she and her crew hadn’t been dragged away by their captain before Kassandra could really get down to business. It had left her madly aroused and deeply frustrated and then she’d had to come back to Markos’ and lie quietly next to Phoibe for the rest of the night.

Still, no point getting wound up about it now. The woman had said that her ship occasionally sailed these waters. Maybe she would see her again?

And if not?

Well, she’d managed to get over Nephele’s departure, she could certainly shrug off an abortive one night stand. Life was like that after all. For every lost opportunity another arose later, sometimes when you least expected it.

She was so absorbed in her thoughts that she didn’t realise she was on the point of receiving something unexpected right now.

Markos’ huge, ill tempered, fiercely protective and impressively muscled rooster was eyeing her ass beadily.

The humans were stealing his ladies eggs...again. But this one, the huge one, had made itself vulnerable. No protective clothing, it was on its hands and knees, so preoccupied with its thievery that it hadn’t even noticed him.

A string of ripe curses rattled into the kitchen where Phoibe and Markos sat at breakfast.

“General Buck-Buck,” Phoibe observed wisely, around a mouthful of yesterday's eggs.

“Undoubtedly,” Markos nodded. “But then if she will go out half plastered, in her underwear she’s only got herself to blame. And don’t listen to her. Kassandra has a mouth on her like the offspring of a sailor and a soldier.”

“Mmm,” Phoibe chewed thoughtfully. “Clio says she has a..a surprisingly extensive… collac... colloc...colloquial vocabulary.”

“I suppose it comes from working in a whorehouse,” Markos spat sourly. “And taking you with her. She should be ashamed.”

“But everyone’s really nice,” Phoibe protested, beginning to clean her plate with a chunk of bread. “And what’s a katapygon anyway?” she asked, an ear cocked in the direction of Kassandra’s indignant exclamations.

Markos spluttered as a mouthful of wine went down the wrong way.

“Ooh careful,” Phoibe winced sympathetically. “And you’ve got some yolk in your beard there,” she pointed out.

“Have I now?” Markos grasped gratefully. “Fancy that, better clean that up eh? Especially if we want to get a good deal out of the chicken lady, no?” he grinned hopefully.

“I’m pretty sure the price she said is the price we’re paying,” Phoibe considered. “But you’d still make a better impression with a clean beard I imagine.”

“That fucking rooster, I swear to Zeus I am going to wring his bloody neck and wear him like a hat,” Kassandra stormed in with the egg basket on her arm. “Oh, sorry Phoibe.”

“You’re all talk, you couldn’t wring his neck if your life depended on it and it’s a bit late to apologise now,” Markos said primly. “When we all heard your filthy mouth out there.”

“And you absolutely will  _ not  _ wring General Buck-Buck’s neck,” Phoibe exclaimed. “Our entire plan is resting on his shoulders.”

“Well, not his  _ shoulders _ exactly,” Markos grinned. “More like his…”little Buck-Buck” really,” he wiggled a finger.

“I don’t think he’d appreciate you saying that,” Phoibe raised an eyebrow. “And you’re bleeding Kassandra,” she observed. “Here, show me your ass,” she got to her feet and wandered over. Sure enough there was a trickle of dark blood rolling down the back of her leg.

“Can we perhaps  _ not _ be looking at Kassandra’s ass over the breakfast table,” Markos shuddered.

“I’m nowhere near the damn table,” Kassandra winced as Phoibe wiped away the blood with a relatively clean cloth.

“Ooh he’s got you a good one there!” she grinned. “That’s going to leave a mark.”

“Great!” Kassandra sighed bitterly. “It was about the only place I  _ didn’t  _ have any scars.”

“Well now it matches the rest of you,” Phoibe said brightly. “You’re going to have to change your perizoma though. That doesn’t look very...what’s that word Europa uses?”

“Dainty?” Kassandra snorted,  laughing with Phoibe for a minute. “Damn bird, I’d only just put this on.”

“Well if you’re going to be seeing a lady tonight you really ought to be wearing…” Phoibe began to advise.

“She’d better  _ not _ be seeing a lady tonight,” Markos’ head shot up. “She’s guarding my bloody chickens!”

“ _ Our _ bloody chickens,” Phoibe reminded him. “And she could do both. You could bring her back here, Kassandra!”

“Oh no no no,” Markos waved his hands. “Absolutely not. I don’t want any of those sorts of shenanigans going on here while we’re away. You can’t be keeping on top of my chickens while you’re on top of some woman!”

“Relax Markos,” Kassandra prodded the peck wound with an exploratory finger. It seemed to have stopped bleeding  at least. “I’m not seeing any woman tonight. I have a hot date with your chickens.”

“ _ Our  _ chickens!” Phoibe corrected. “And what woman in her right mind would want Kassandra on top of her?” she pointed out. “She’s way too big for that. I mean even the carter’s wife...she’s a big strong woman, but I bet she wouldn’t want Kassandra on top of her,” she snorted.

“Oh, don’t be so sure, Phoibe,” Kassandra grinned.

Markos shot her a warning glance.

“Phoibe,” Kassandra ruffled her hair. “Cook some of these eggs for me would you, please?”

“Gods Kassandra,” Markos poured a cup of wine for himself, adding a token offering of water. “It’s about time you learned how to cook an egg don’t you think?”

“I  _ can _ cook an egg!” she protested drinking a cup of water in one draught. “They just come out sort of crispy when I do them. I prefer them kind of…soft and yielding.”

“We’re still talking about eggs are we?” Markos observed dryly. “You’re too heavy handed, that’s your problem. You need the lightest of touches, gentle motions, an eye for the subtlest changes.”

“ _ Are _ we still talking about eggs?” Kassandra arched an eyebrow.

“Yes, we are,” Markos said, crisply. “Don’t be vulgar in front of young Phoibe. We’re talking about eggs, and chickens,” he reminded her. “And I want you to watch those chickens like a hawk tonight...well, not exactly like a hawk obviously. In the manner of a hawk. It’s a figure…”

“Of speech, yes I know Markos,” Kassandra begin to eat some bread while she waited. “I’m not sure why you need me guarding the damn things though?”

“Because of the thief!” he sighed. “Don’t you listen to a word we tell you? Someone has been stealing old lady Agape’s birds. And they aren’t half so attractive as mine.”

“Ours!” Phoibe shot at him as she put a plate in front of Kassandra. “There you go. Enjoy!”

“Thank you, Phoibe,” Kassandra slipped an arm about her waist and ruffled her hair. “These look delicious,” she tore a chunk of bread from the heel of the loaf that remained and set to.

“You  _ are _ going to watch the chickens though, aren’t you?” Phoibe asked with a hint of anxiety as she sat down across from her.

Kassandra looked up from her plate to Phoibe’s nervous, hopeful expression. She chewed quickly and swallowed hard.

“Of course, little one. Nothing bad is going to happen to those chickens on my watch. I promise you Phoibe, I’ll stay with them all night. No one is getting to your chickens while I’m here.”

“ _ Our _ chickens,” Markos chimed in. “And they’d better not. And the General in particular.”

“Remind me again,” Kassandra said thickly around a mouthful of yolky bread. “Why are you going all the way to Ithaka to buy chickens? Surely you could just let nature take its course if you want more?”

“No, she definitely hasn’t been listening,” Phoibe gave Markos a meaningful look. “They’re important chickens.”

“Vital to my egg production scam,” Markos grinned.

“Scheme!” Phoibe corrected, frowning. “ _ Our _ egg production _ scheme _ .”

“That’s what I said, no?” he shrugged, hands out.

“No, you said...never mind,” Phoibe shook her head. “They’re vital chickens Kassandra.”

“And how exactly are they so vital to your egg production scam?” she arched an eyebrow at Markos.

“Egg production  _ scheme _ ,” he pointed out. “Scheme. You said...”

“I know what I said,” Kassandra took a drink of water. “Vital  _ how _ though?”

“Should we tell her?” Markos cocked an eyebrow at Phoibe.

“May as well,” she shrugged. “She clearly doesn’t listen anyway.”

“Okay, I’m listening now Phoibe,” Kassandra frowned intently as she wiped up a puddle of creamy yolk with a piece of bread. “You’re trying to breed super chickens, is that it? A risky business I would have thought. That bloody rooster is borderline lethal as it is.”

“Super  _ eggs _ !” Phoibe corrected. “You know how our chickens lay an egg every day?”

“That’s sort of the point of chickens, isn’t it?” Kassandra raised a brow. “Apart from eating them, obviously. They give you an egg every day until they end up in the pot. Its their lot in life.”

Phoibe and Markos exchanged a pitying look and shook their heads.

“No,no,that’s just the point,” Phoibe began patiently. “Not every chicken does, some only give you three or four a week.”

“Widow Agape?” Markos smirked, “every other day most of the time by all accounts. My chick.. _.our _ chickens,” he caught Phoibe’s eye. “Every day...without fail. And it’s just as well, the way you two eat!”

“That’s General Buck-Buck,” Phoibe puffed out her chest. “His babies are incredible. But…” she held up a finger. “They’re only quite little, no?”

Kassandra looked down at the last intact egg on her plate. She had been toying with the idea of forking the whole thing into her mouth.

“Mmm, I suppose so,” she nodded.

“The Ithaka chickens,” Phoibe grinned. “Huge eggs. But not every day.”

“So we are going to unleash the general’s loins on the chickens of Ithaka,” Markos threw out his arms. “Produce chickens that lay a big, delicious egg every day.”

“First of all that sounds disgusting, don’t make me have to think about that rooster’s loins,” Kassandra shuddered. “And secondly, I don’t think roosters even have loins, do they?”

“Figure of speech,” Markos shrugged.

Kassandra shovelled in the last egg with a little less enthusiasm than the rest. All this talk of the General’s breeding habits was taking the edge off her enjoyment.

“Anyway, loins or no loins,” Phoibe grinned. “We end up with more eggs. Fantastic eggs!”

“Markos’ Fantastic Eggs!” he held up his hands theatrically. “Ooh, no, wait! Markos’ Magical Eggs!”

“Er… _ Phoibe _ and Markos’ Magical Eggs,” Phoibe corrected wearily.

He considered for a moment.

“Markos and Phoibe’s Magical Eggs!” he decided. “It sounds better, because of the  _ Emms _ , you see.”

Phoibe frowned thoughtfully for a while, clearly running it through her mind both ways.

“All right,” she conceded. “Markos and Phoibe’s Magical Eggs!”

“And when people find out that there’s nothing “magical” about these eggs?” Kassandra cleaned her plate with a last piece of bread and settled back contentedly, hands folded on her belly.

“They’re Magically Delicious!” Phoibe announced dramatically.

“Perfect!” Markos pointed at her. “Magically Delicious! Genius! You take after me, little one.”

The look Kassandra gave him was withering, and she was about to raise some perfectly reasonable objections when there was a brisk knock at the door and Zanita the carter’s wife strode in. As Phoibe had observed earlier, she was indeed big and strong, lavishly fleshed and well equipped for loading and unloading carts.

“Good morning one and all,” she grinned, mainly in the direction of Phoibe and Kassandra, it had to be said. “Ready to go?”

Kassandra raised her eyebrows and looked quizzically from Zanita to Markos.

“We have to take a crate for the chickens,” he explained his acceptance of what seemed at first glance to be an avoidable expense. “It’s just outside the door Zanita, if you would?” he nodded.

“So it is,” she looked down. She was practically standing on it.

Kassandra watched appreciatively as she squatted to lift it and found herself shifting a little in her seat. Small as it was, even Kephallonia was not devoid of opportunity. The voice of restraint shouted at the top of its lungs that Zanita was happily married.  _ Other _ , Kassandra reminded herself,  _ other _ opportunities.

“Well, little one,” Zanita looked over her shoulder to Phoibe. “Do you have anything to bring besides this?”

“Nope, we’re good to go,” she skipped happily over to the door.

“Kassandra,” Zanita eyed her as she got up to say goodbye to Phoibe. “Nice to see so much of you first thing in the morning,” she winked. “Fancy a ride to work?”

“Yes, come on Kassandra,” Phoibe held out a hand, wiggling her fingers encouragingly. “We’re going your way. You can say goodbye to us in town, then.”

Kassandra considered. It would save her the walk and she could take the basket of eggs to Selene’s.

“Yes, thanks Zanita,” she nodded. “Kind of you.”

“Put some clothes on then, for Zeus’ sake,” Markos tossed her the tunic she’d brought down and left on the back of a chair. “And be quick about it. We don’t want to miss the boat.”

Kassandra pulled on the tunic and followed them out, the basket on one arm. She placed it carefully in the back and clambered into the seat beside Zanita’s. The crate stowed, Zanita lifted Phobe to sit in Kassandra’s lap.

“There you go, little one,” she ruffled her hair. “Though it’s wasted on you,” she winked at Kassandra and then watched, openly amused as Markos struggled inelegantly to his seat, managing it at the second attempt.

It made a pleasant change riding to work Kassandra decided as Phoibe bounced excitedly in her lap, bubbling with enthusiasm at the prospect of the trip.

“It’s not too late to get in on the ground floor, Kassandra,” she pointed out. “You could put in for a couple of chickens, get a share of the eggs.”

“A tempting offer,” Kassandra pretended to give it consideration. “But I’m going to pass I think.”

“You sure?” Phoibe queried. “We’d could name a chicken after you.”

“Let’s not eh?” Kassandra laughed and ruffled her hair fondly.

“So if I put in for a couple of chickens would you name one after me?” Zanita grinned good-humouredly.

“Absolut…” Phoibe began.

“Phoibe! Let’s not be giving away our business plans to all and sundry eh?” Markos frowned over at her.

Zanita gave him a cool look.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather walk, Markos?” she asked dryly. “You’re not worried that I might pick your pocket while you’re sitting there?”

Her disapproval was sufficient to keep him subdued for the rest of the journey. When they drew to a halt and unloaded near the docks, Kassandra wrapped Phoibe in a huge hug and pressed a kiss to the crown of her head.

“Take care little one,” she rested their foreheads together. “I’ll miss you, but have fun. I hope your chickens are...well, everything you hope they’ll be,” she grinned.

“You take care too Kassandra,” Phoibe wrapped her arms tightly about her neck and hugged hard. Kassandra felt warm tears against her neck.

She drew back and held Phoibe a short distance away, giving her a reassuring smile as she met her eyes.

“It’s just one night, Phoibe,” she said quietly. “And I’ll be thinking of you. Try to have fun. Listen to Markos, assuming he’s saying anything worth listening to,” she winked.

“Hey!” he caught this. “She will be perfectly safe with me. You make it sound like I’m not a responsible person,” he managed to sound genuinely affronted, which Kassandra considered something of an achievement. She kissed Phoibe hard and then got to her feet.

Under the guise of giving him a quick, half hug she hissed in Markos’ ear.

“She had better be safe Markos, because I swear, here and now, that if anything happens to that child whilst she is in your care, I will tear out your arm and beat you to death with the wet end. And there’s not a person on the island who will try and stop me.”

He looked a little ashen when she released him with a terrifying smile and slapped his arm.

“Have fun with your chickens, see you both tomorrow.”

As she set off for Selene’s with the basket of eggs on her arm she heard Phoibe saying brightly to Markos.

“Aw, Kassandra’s going to miss you too. I’ve never seen her give you a hug before, that was nice, no? Are you okay? You look a funny colour. You don’t get sea-sick do you? I should have got some mint from Clio? Do I have time to run and get some?”

 

Selene was just coming downstairs as Kassandra entered, kicking the dust from her sandals.

“Good morning sweetheart,” she inclined her head to receive her kiss. “You come bearing eggs, I see. Did Phoibe get on her way safely?”

“Mmm, “ Kassandra nodded. “She seems very excited about her chicken project. And it sounds...harmless. You aren’t going to turn up your nose at these eggs are you?” it suddenly occurred to her that Selene hadn’t accepted anything associated with Markos for years.

“I choose to view them as coming from Phoibe,” Selene smiled. “There’s blood on your tunic,” she frowned, watching Kassandra make her way into the kitchen. “Is it yours?” she called after her.

“Nothing serious,” Kassandra assured her, putting the basket on the table and peering down over her shoulder. That bloody rooster, she really was going to kill it one of these days.

Clio was in the yard sitting on a stool by the pump, humming softly to herself. She wore just her perizoma as she washed her hair over a bucket.

Kassandra crept up behind her, pressing a playful kiss to her shoulder and grinning as she jumped a little and half turned to look.

“Gods!” Clio laughed, relieved. “You scared me out of a year’s growth. I thought you were at Markos’ today guarding his...giant chickens was it?” she tried to remember what Phoibe had said.

“Giant eggs,” Kassandra corrected, taking the dipper from Clio’s hand and beginning to rinse her hair for her. “I think so anyway. Though now I come to say it out loud I’m not sure whether the thing with the eggs is size or frequency.”

“Well, there’s something to be said for both,” Clio had her head tilted sideways as Kassandra worked gentle fingers through her hair and poured more water. “Or either, I suppose, depending on your preferences,” she gave a playful wink. “Anyway, aren’t you supposed to be guarding _ something _ ? Phoibe was quite insistent.”

“If my knowledge of chicken reproduction is correct then the eggs in question won’t be around for a while yet,” Kassandra laughed. “And honestly, when it comes down to it I’m really just guarding that hell-beast of a rooster of Markos’.”

“Oh, the one that gave you that scar on your leg?” Clio shook water out of her ear.

“And another on my ass now,” Kassandra reflected ruefully, reaching a careful exploratory hand behind her and wincing a little. “Not many get to wound me twice.”

“Your ass!” Clio grinned delightedly, combing back her hair with her fingers and turning to face her. “Now  _ that _ I have to see.”

“It’s not a scar yet, obviously,” Kassandra turned her back to her and raised the skirt of her tunic. “Just an ugly war wound.”

Clio leaned forward and moved Kassandra’s perizoma aside enough to examine the cut. She was quiet for a moment and then shook her head.

“Yeah, he’s done quite a number here actually. I’d be impressed, if he hadn’t marred the matchless perfection of your ass,” she smiled up at her. “That’s going to be one of your more...intriguing scars. But, honestly, I’d come up with a more impressive story than “a rooster pecked me” to go with it.”

“I’ve already decided it was a snake,” Kassandra laughed.

“Good choice,” Clio ran damp fingers up the back of Kassandra’s thigh and felt her quiver at the touch. “Would you like me to kiss that better?” she asked teasingly.

“I think that would help enormously,” Kassandra glanced down at her, eyebrows twitching.

Clio bent forward and pressed a soft, rather lingering kiss there, just as Selene walked out with a cup of watered wine in her hand.

“What have I told you two?” she barked crisply, making them both jump. “We have rooms specifically _ for _ that kind of thing!”

“We have a room specifically for kissing Kass’ ass?” Clio raised a playful eyebrow but she drew back all the same.

“I don’t think we do at the moment,” Kassandra said a little daringly. “But it’s something to consider for the future.”

“Kassandra!” Selene cut her off sharply. “You know the rules as well as anyone. No free performances for the neighbours.”

“Are you saying that if we charge?” Clio was gently wringing water out of her hair.

Selene raised a warning finger, subduing both of them.

“Why on earth were you showing her your rear end anyway?” she took a sip of wine and arched an elegant eyebrow.

“I was just saying I was going to have a scar there,” Kassandra admitted, rubbing the back of her neck awkwardly.

Selene waited for further clarification.

“She’s been wounded,” Clio explained solemnly. “By a foreign general.”

“A foreign general?” Selene frowned, shock evident in her voice. “On Kephallonia?”

Kassandra held up a calming hand before this could go too far.

“Markos’ rooster,” she explained, rubbing the sore spot absently.

“That damned rooster again,” Selene’s frown hadn’t lessened as she glided over. “It’s going to have someone’s eye out one day. Let me see,” she bent over.

Kassandra found herself in the awkward situation of raising the back of her tunic for Selene this time. Her fingers were very cool, she thought, as she more or less repeated Clio’s actions of earlier. Not that Selene was likely to follow up with a kiss, she thought, smirking to herself.

Naturally enough, at this point Europa sauntered out with a flask of oil for Clio’s hair. She halted at the door and surveyed the peculiar scene.

“Why are we all looking at Kassandra’s ass?” she recovered herself and walked over to join them, handing the flask and a comb to Clio.

“It’s a subject worthy of study, don’t you think?” she grinned up at her.

“Well undoubtedly,” Europa shrugged placidly. “The yard just seems an odd place to do it. Oh Kassandra, you’re bleeding,” she peered over Selene’s shoulder.

“You need a stitch or two in that,” Selene stood upright and patted Kassandra’s shoulder. “And it needs cleaning. Zeus only knows where that rooster’s beak has been, come on.”

Kassandra wasn’t entirely sure that this wasn’t in some way payback for fooling around in the yard with Clio. But if it was still bleeding then Selene was probably right, and she’d become quite proficient at dealing with any minor injuries Kassandra acquired at work.

“And a clean perizoma,” Europa called after them as she began to tease the tangles out of Clio’s hair. “That one looks less than dainty now.”

“Who’s going to see her perizoma that hasn’t already seen the grubby one?” Clio winced a little as Europa encountered a knot.

“Sorry,” she picked it apart gently. “I see your point, but what if she gets knocked down by a donkey cart or something?”

“Good thinking,” Clio nodded. “Imagine the indignity of having blood on your perizoma while you were being trampled to death by a donkey?” she grinned.

A muted bellow from the kitchen suggested that Selene had broken out the hard spirits to clean the wound.

“Quite a big part of me wants to go in and see what’s happening,” Clio chuckled as Europa began to comb oil through her hair.

“I’m sure we aren’t missing much,” she leaned back and peered through the doorway. “Kassandra’s just bent over the kitchen table with Selene standing behind her,” she squinted.

“Right well, I’ll tuck _ that _ image away for later consideration,” Clio arched an eyebrow.

There was a second grumbling exclamation from Kassandra and Europa laughed.

“Selene is getting right in there by the look of it. It’ll be clean if nothing else.”

“Right, stop now,” Clio held up a playful hand. “I’m only human.”

“Hmm, and an odd one at that,” Europa smiled down. “But I love you all the same,” she bent and kissed Clio’s damp head as Kassandra made a bid to escape the kitchen.

“Come back here,” Selene called after her. “That definitely needs stitching, you can’t be walking around bleeding all day.”

“I don’t know, it’s something of a fact of life,” Clio got to her feet. “Thank you Europa,” she reached for the towel and began to dry herself off, watching in amusement as Selene got hold of the back of Kassandra’s tunic and hauled her inside.

By the time Clio had dried herself, put on her chiton and tidied up around the pump, Selene had boiled a length of thread and a needle and allowed them to cool slightly, and Kassandra was leaning forward, arms braced on the kitchen table, frowning in anticipation.

“Would you like me to hold your hand?” Clio grinned, patting her shoulder as she passed.

“Thanks, but I think I’ve got it,” Kassandra smiled dryly. All the same she jumped a little at the first touch of Selene’s hand.

“Just a minute, I need to sit down for this,” Selene dragged a chair over with her foot. “Ready?” she glanced up at Kassandra. “You know, this must have been its spurs, not its beak,” she began to stitch.

“That sounds more impressive already,” Clio sat and watched the scene unfold with a wry smile. “It makes it sound like you were actually fighting it.”

“Hardly,” Europa was carefully not watching the stitching. “If he slashed her in the backside, it sounds like she was retreating.”

Kassandra gave her a withering look before wincing a little as the thread caught.

“You know, when I got up this morning,” Clio had found a bowl of olives and was chewing thoughtfully. “I had no idea of the entertainment the day was going to bring. You could definitely charge people to watch  _ this, _ Selene,” she tilted her head, pouting in consideration.

“Thank you for your observations,” Selene remarked dryly, casting the briefest of glances in her direction. “I should have got you to take this off, it would have been much easier,” she tucked aside the folds of Kassandra’s perizoma.

“And it becomes more entertaining with every passing moment,” Clio chuckled.

“Good,” Selene smiled coolly. “Then you’ll be in a high humour when you run to the fish stall later. Sophitia has some crabs for us.”

“I don’t even know where to begin with _ that _ ,” Clio pursed her lips and selected another olive.

Selene was too busy tying off the final stitch to reprove her.

“Damn, forgot the scissors,” she muttered. “Stand still a moment longer, sweetheart,” she bent close and nipped off the thread with her teeth.

“And just like that a new fantasy springs fully formed,” Clio wafted a hand in their direction. “Like Athena from the head of Zeus.”

“Don’t be sacrilegious!” Europa frowned, bending to examine Selene’s handiwork. “She’s done a really good job, Kassandra. It’ll be a nice, neat scar. Pity it’s somewhere no-one will ever see it.”

“Gods smile on you, Europa,” Clio laughed, getting to her feet and retrieving a shopping basket from under the table. “You’ve known Kass all this time and you can still say that with a straight face.”

“Off you go now,” Selene gave Kassandra’s ass a firm slap, a safe distance away from her stitching. “You can go with Clio, we need a cask of ale collecting from Gordias. It’s already paid for.”

“Ooh, we can go shopping together,” Clio tucked her arm through Kassandra’s. She was  rearranging her perizoma and straightening her tunic with her other hand. “How charmingly domestic.” she leaned into her side. “Will you carry my basket, handsome misthios?” she fluttered her eyelashes.

“Please behave in town, or at any rate don’t make a complete spectacle of yourselves if that’s possible,” Selene watched them leave and shook her head fondly.

 

Sophitia was grinning broadly as she watched them approach the fish stall. Clio had released Kassandra’s arm as soon as they stepped out of Selene’s field of vision.

“Kassandra! Lovely to see you,” she looked up from the squid she was preparing. “And looking as handsome as ever,” she put aside the cruel looking blade she’d been using and reached theatrically into her cleavage to retrieve a handkerchief, wiping her hands before replacing the cloth with more of a performance than was at all necessary Clio thought.

“Good morning Sophitia,” Kassandra was watching the handkerchief’s progress with an appreciative expression. “You look very well.”

“Clio,” Sophitia gave her a nod.

“Indeed,” she replied tightly. “You have crabs I believe?”

Sophitia braced her hands on her hips, tilted her head back and laughed heartily.

“Ah, I’ve heard that one before, but never right to my face,” she reached behind her and then placed a large cloth-wrapped bundle on the counter.

“Still warm,” she winked at Kassandra. “I’ve some octopus here for Selene and Europa, but not Kassandra,” she leaned forward on the counter, arms braced close. It did something spectacular to the way her breasts sat in the deeply cut shift she wore.

“Kassandra doesn’t like octopus, you know” she cast a glance towards Clio.

“I’m well aware of what Kassandra does, and doesn’t like,” Clio narrowed her eyes.

“Are you now?” Sophitia was unchastened. “I  _ also _ know what she does like, as it happens, and I’ve something here that’s guaranteed to float your boat,” she bent to reach into a wooden tub by her feet before standing up and slapping a fat eel on the counter.

Before she realised what was happening Kassandra found that Sophitia had hold of her hand and had pressed it to the meaty flank of the fish.

“Feel that,” she purred. “Firm eh?”

“Well I do like eel,” Kassandra found herself grinning at Sophitia’s audacity. “And this is a very fine looking one.”

“Nothing but the best for my favourite misthios.”

Clio’s sigh could probably have been heard in the boat-sheds. It certainly should have been enough to rein in Sophitia but she was having none of it. She ran her fingers slowly up and down between Kassandra’s and leaned forward a little more.

“Why don’t you move my fingers to where you’d like me to make my move?” her lips quirked saucily.

“Look, just cut her a piece of fish will you?” Clio interrupted. “We’ve no time for theatre, there’s errands to run.”

“My word, Clio,” Sophitia picked up her knife, swiftly and efficiently cutting a substantial chunk of eel. “Get out of the wrong side of bed this morning? How about some nice squid? Would that cheer you up?”

“No, it wouldn’t, thank you,” Clio began to pack away the crab and octopus.” We’ve ale to collect, Kassandra,” she glanced up and saw Sophitia fishing in her cleavage again.

“Ale eh?” she reached for Kassandra’s hand. “Well I can’t let you leave with slippery fingers,” she began to wipe Kassandra’s hand for her.

“And the sweaty cloth is going to improve matters?” Clio sighed, tilting her head at Kassandra. She was smiling a little too wolfishly for her liking, as she watched Sophitia dry between her fingers.

“Oh Kassandra’s certainly not afraid of a little sweat,” Sophitia gave Clio a broad, shameless wink. “Tell you what. You go and collect your ale. And I’ll have something warm and salty waiting for you when you get back,” she picked up the thick eel steak and slapped it down over the hot coals.

“I look forward to it,” Kassandra grinned, completely ignoring Clio’s outraged eyebrows.

They walked in silence for a couple of minutes on the way to the tavern. At last Kassandra released the laugh she’d been holding and shook her head.

“You know she only does it to wind you up,” she glanced down at Clio’s pouting face. It was awfully cute, she thought.

“So she’s a priestess of Artemis when you go to the fish stall with Europa, I suppose?” she said dryly.

“Well I’ve never actually met one so I’m not sure, but...no… I don’t suppose so, not really,” Kassandra conceded after a moment’s consideration. “But not half as bad, and to be honest I don’t think Europa notices a lot of it. Or she chooses to ignore it. Sophitia’s just trying to make you jealous.”

“Jealous indeed!” Clio raised her eyebrows. “I’m not jealous. You flatter yourself Kassandra of Sparta,” she said primly.

“Because you don’t need to be,” Kassandra grinned and edged a little closer to her. “After all, Sophitia won’t be the one writhing beneath me tonight,” she growled playfully.

“Writhing beneath you?!” Clio snorted, amused, her mood seemingly restored. “And which lucky girl do you have lined up for that?”

“I was...sort of hoping it might be you?” Kassandra glanced down and, kicked a pebble up the path a way.

“Were you now? Well it does sound highly tempting,” Clio made a show of giving it consideration. “Writhing beneath the Mighty Rooster Guardian,” she glanced sidelong at her.

“What? Oh...shit,” Kassandra remembered her promise. “That bloody rooster.”

“You should bring him round,” Clio chuckled. “Stick him in the yard. Europa could probably tame him. She has a way with beasts.”

“And I can only imagine everyone’s delight when he wakes them at the crack of dawn,” Kassandra reminded her. “Plus there’s no way I’m trying to crate that damn thing to bring it over. It’s done me enough damage already.”

She was thoughtful after this though, Clio noticed. They’d collected the cask of ale from Gordias and were ambling back along the dock to the fish stall when Kassandra spoke again.

“You  _ could _ still spend the night with me, though?” she glanced down at Clio. “Come back with me, after work?”

“To Markos’?” Clio looked up. “And when he finds out? You know what he’s been like since the whole Selene thing. They could both carry a grudge to the top of Mount Olympus and back.”

“How’s he going to find out?” Kassandra shifted the cask to a slightly more comfortable position. “We’ll be going there in the dark, there’s no neighbours. If anyone sees us walking back the next morning? So what? They won’t see where we came from.”

Selene greeted Kassandra’s suggestion with less enthusiasm than Clio had.

“He will be furious if he finds out that Clio has been around while he was away,” she pointed out calmly. “You’re all too well aware of his opinions about me and mine nowadays. Though, when I think about it, there was always an undercurrent of disapproval.”

Europa was filing her nails, a thoughtful expression on her pretty face.

“Kassandra has a point,” she considered. ”I mean she’s an excellent tracker, surely she can keep them out of sight? And sometimes it’s just nice to go somewhere...else...for things,” she stumbled a little as she cast her mind back to a recent picnic at the beach with Adrian. “And this way there’ll be two pairs of eyes watching his chickens,” she re-directed herself.

“There’s not a person at this table who thinks that either pair will be looking at the chickens,” Selene rolled her eyes. “Let’s not even pretend that,” she was quiet for a moment. “All right, it’s hardly like I can stop you after all, but for Zeus’ sake don’t get caught, because if there’s aggravation with Markos then you know I’ll have to come out fighting for you and honestly I prefer just not to have to think about him.”

“I know,” Kassandra looked a bit crestfallen and Selene adopted a reassuring expression. Leaning forward she patted her hand comfortingly.

“Don’t look so gloomy,” she smiled. “It’s not like he ever spent that much money here anyway.”

  
  


Kassandra, unsurprisingly, couldn’t wait for the evening to be over, so naturally by the end of the night the place was full of leery drunks in no hurry to go home.

“No, no, you’re quite right, my friend,” she had a supporting arm about the shoulders of a wobbling little sailor, as she led him to the door. He was the last one to leave and verbal persuasion having failed she’d steeled herself for physical contact. She didn’t know how Clio and the others put up with it some nights.

“Yes, yes. You could totally take me if you weren’t drunk,” she sighed. His head came just past her armpit and his stringy muscles looked like knots in thread.

“M’not drunk,” he peered up at her.

“Please friend, you get drunk every time you’re here.” she glanced up as they passed the stairs.

Clio was sitting there, looking tired, but entertained.

“I beg your pardon!” he sounded outraged, but the effect was marred somewhat by a noxious belch. Kassandra reared back a little.

“If you’re afraid to take me on,” he puffed out his chest. “I quite understand.”

“It would ruin my reputation,” she bent and slid her arm around his back, under his shoulders and half lifted him closer to the door. “One way or another,” she added, thoughtfully.

“Ahh!” he tapped the side of his nose. “I’d go easy on you, let you get in a few punches…” his face suddenly changed colour.

Kassandra had worked here long enough to recognize the signs. She quickly grabbed him under the arms and half ran through the door, popping him down outside just in time for him to vomit noisily and copiously in the dirt.

“Zeus’ balls!” she withdrew, wrinkling her nose. “Selene’s going to be thrilled about that,” she was going to have to come out and swill that away when she’d sent him packing. ”Now, friend, can you find your way home? And, also, you’re barred by the way.”

“Ey?” he straightened up, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. “My way?...mmm?” he peered about blearily. “You know,” he grinned suddenly, pulling a lecherously appraising look out of somewhere. “I’m not sure I do...and the streets can be dangerous at nights.”

Kassandra heard Clio laughing delightedly from her perch on the stairs.

“It’s Sami, friend, not Athens, you’ll be fine,” she slapped his shoulder and he swayed a little. “The donkeys are the most dangerous things here...after Markos’ rooster. Off you go.”

“You know,” he smirked and adopted a wheedling tone. “I’ve heard about your...preferences of course,” he made to begin an expressive hand gesture.

“Look friend,” Kassandra drew herself up to her full height and glared down her nose at him. “If those two fingers get any closer to your mouth I will snap them off and you’ll be walking home with them in your nostrils.”

Clio snorted.

“I was just going to say,” he shrugged. “That you shouldn’t dismiss things until you’ve tried them. I never used to think I liked things with tentacles until…”

“Is this some filthy euphemism?” Kassandra scowled, “because it’s been a long day, and I’m not in the mood.”

“What?” he frowned, puzzled. “No, no, I mean octopuseseses. Never liked it till I tried it,” he unleashed another noxious belch and Kassandra took a step back.

“Yes, well, I don’t like _octopus_ either,” she grimaced. “And if I  _ was _ going to try it, it wouldn’t be one with vomit in its beard,” she eyed him with disgust. “Look here,” she turned him round forcefully, and pointed him in the direction of the docks.

“You live on a boat or a ship or some sort of sea going vessel,” she gave him a shove. “Keep going vaguely downhill till you fall in the water.”

“You know where I am if you change your mind,” he sing-songed over his shoulder and walked straight into a wall.

Kassandra kept an eye on him until he was round the corner, out of sight and out of her jurisdiction.

Gods the place stank like a tavern mop bucket now, she wrinkled her nose. An acute sense of smell wasn’t always a gift. She stepped over the huge puddle of vomit. He’d been eating octopus as well, the little shit. He was definitely barred now.

“It’s not too late to run after him,” Clio had got to her feet and was standing on the stairs laughing, leaning over the banister. “Your legs are much longer than his, you’d soon catch up with him.”

“Very amusing,” Kassandra sauntered over to her.

Her position on the stairs put her at the same height as Kassandra for once. She was wearing a low cut, green chiton that matched the colour of her gold flecked eyes and was leaning over, hands crossed as they hung over the banister. She knew full well what that did to her breasts. Kassandra rewarded her efforts with a wolfish smirk.

“So, shall we leave?” Clio asked, tilting her head temptingly, she looked soft and sleepy and every part of Kassandra wanted to walk right out of the door with her in her arms and forget everything else.

She reached up and slipped her hand behind Clio’s neck where soft strands of hair curled loose, eased her head forward a little and met the soft warmth of her mouth.

She tasted of wine and almonds and somehow still managed to smell delicious in the midst of the scents of spilt wine, sweat and sex.

Clio wrapped her arms about Kassandra’s neck and hummed softly as her tongue traced the crease of Clio’s lips, begging entry.

“I should pack a couple of things, no?” she breathed, breaking the kiss at last, nosing aside Kassandra’s braid to nip at her throat.

“A couple of things?” Kassandra shivered at the touch of her teeth.

“Well one of us should be wearing clean underwear at some point I think,” Clio whispered. “And also I have a little something from Pero that you haven’t seen yet. Tonight might be a good time to show you.”

Kassandra was unexpectedly quiet at this she thought. Drawing back a little she watched a slow, sheepish grin spread over her face.

“You’ve already seen it?” she rolled her eyes. “Have you been ferreting around in my things, unscrupulous misthios?”

“No, no,” Kassandra shook her head, unable to control her grin. “Pero was making it while she and I were...involved. She showed me what you ordered,” she grinned.

“Gods!” Clio exclaimed, affronted. “So much for customer confidentiality. Don’t tell me you two tried it out before she delivered it?”

“Absolutely not!” Kassandra was genuinely scandalized on Pero’s behalf. “She never tries customers’ orders. The very idea, Clio!” She smiled and arched an eyebrow. “I’m pretty sure that she only mentioned it because she thought it was for me, actually.”

“That explains why she made the straps so long,” Clio laughed coming down a couple of steps into Kassandra’s embrace. “I had half a mind to trim them shorter, but then I decided that it was far too nice to use for business and I should keep it for pleasure. So I left the straps, it occurred to me that we might have need of that...extra length one day,” she smiled archly.

“I don’t recall there being all that much extra length,” Kassandra winked playfully. She slipped her arms about Clio’s waist, pulling her in close, lifting her onto her toes, enjoying the warm softness of her body. “Girth, perhaps?”

“I’m talking about the straps,” Clio shook her head. “It’s been a long night, mind you, and I am a little tired, but as we’ve established, it will definitely fit  _ you _ ,” she purred and ran the tip of her tongue along the sharp angle of Kassandra’s jaw. “And I know for a fact that you’re not afraid of hard work.”

Oh gods, but Kassandra wanted her suddenly, here, now, on the stairs if it came down to it. She bent and buried her face against the fragrant skin at the crook of Clio’s neck, growling low.

“Do you really want to walk all the way to Markos’ right now?”

“Truthfully, the idea of walking to Markos’ has never once filled me with delight, in all the time I’ve been here,” Clio gave a quiet chuckle as Kassandra bit at her shoulder, too softly to mark but hard enough to provoke a full body shiver.

“Then let’s go upstairs eh?” she bent and grasped Clio about the hips, lifting her so she could lock her legs about Kassandra’s waist.

Clio smiled into the first kiss, humming with pleasure as Kassandra eased her tongue, eager and inquisitive, past her lips. She knotted her fingers in the loosening root of her braid and pressed herself slowly but meaningfully against the rolled edge of Kassandra’s belt.

By now Kassandra had forgotten about everything except Clio’s warm supple body in her arms, she took a couple of steps and made for the foot of the stairs.

“God’s teeth! You scared the life out of me. What are you two still doing here?” Europa startled them both as she walked out of the kitchen into the darkened main room. “I thought you were supposed to be over at Markos’ having some strange romantic, chicken guarding date?”

“Damn!” Kassandra lowered her head to Clio’s shoulder and gave a weary sigh. “I’d forgotten all about the bloody chickens.”

“Mmm, it looked like you had,” Europa smiled. “But you did promise Phoibe, and the pleasure will be all the sweeter for the anticipation,” she continued, a trifle primly.

“What in Hades are you doing stalking around in the dark anyway, scaring the wits out of innocent folks, Europa?” Kassandra asked, snippily, as she gently lowered Clio’s feet to the ground.

“I was rinsing out the cups,” she stifled a yawn. “Sometimes a kitchen full of dirty wine cups is more than I can face first thing...ew,” she wrinkled her nose. “Did someone throw up in here?”

“Bugger!” Kassandra had forgotten about that too. “No, not quite, but I do need to go wash down by the front door.”

“The pleasure will be all the sweeter, remember,” Clio smirked. “Think of it as foreplay.”

Kassandra gave her an old-fashioned look and stalked out to fill a bucket with clean water.

“I’ll go pack shall I?” Clio called after her retreating back. There was no response. “I’ll take silence as consent in this instance,” she smiled at Europa who was rubbing her eyes sleepily.

“Pack?” she glanced up. “You’re only there for the night.”

“I have plans for our handsome misthios,” Clio tapped the side of her nose.

“Not too elaborate I hope,” Europa glanced out of the front door, sniffed and grimaced. “You’ve got a hike ahead of you yet.”

“Kassandra can easily throw me over her shoulder if I start to flag,” Clio called back as she sauntered upstairs.

Europa heard Kassandra’s disgruntled muttering even before her heavy steps and smiled.

“Give me the bucket, Kassandra,” she held out her hand. “And that,” she nodded at the long handled deck brush she’d brought with her.

“No,” Kassandra demurred. “I can’t ask you to wash away a puddle of octopus vomit.”

“Octopus vomit?” Europa’s brows creased. “I had no idea they…”

“No, no,” Kassandra shook her head, lips quirking. “The thrower-upper had been eating octopus. Not as exciting clearly, but I still can’t ask you to clean it up.”

“I’d be doing it if you weren’t here,” she replied reasonably. “Give it. You’ve got a weary lover to carry.”

Kassandra looked up quizzically as Clio appeared with a cloth bag over her arm. She must have had that packed already to be back down again so quickly, she decided.

“I’m  _ carrying _ you to Markos’ now?” she arched an eyebrow.

“Not all the way,” Clio laughed, “Though it would be profoundly romantic if you did, and Aphrodite only knows what a woman would be prepared to do by way of thanking you,” she gave a theatrically arch smile.

“Just admit defeat Kassandra,” Europa chuckled. “And give me the bucket.”

“Sometimes losing can be even more fun than winning, you know,” Clio ran a hand down Kassandra’s arm.

Europa stepped out into the street and looked carefully in all directions.

“Off you go, young lovers,” she said, leaning on the brush as they passed. “There’s no one around to witness your illicit tryst.” she seemed in remarkably good humour for a woman almost standing in a puddle of fish scented vomit.

“And whatever you do,” she hissed after them. “Don’t get drunk, lie in and get caught by he who shall not be named.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

As soon as they could Kassandra took them off the beaten path and across the fields, the shortest way to Markos’ house.

To her credit Clio didn’t complain at all as they trudged through the deep grass. She readily accepted Kassandra’s offer of a hand though and it wasn’t too long before it occurred to her that Clio had had a long day, an even more tiring evening and that her skirts and light sandals were not really made for cross country rambling. Neither were her much shorter legs.

“I’m  sorry Clio,” she stopped at last. “This is a short cut for me, not at all for you though. Can I carry you?”

“I imagine you can,” she grinned good-naturedly.

“ _ May _ I carry you?” Kassandra rolled her eyes extravagantly.

“Absolutely you may,” Clio laughed as she found herself swept up in Kassandra’s arms and carried over the field at an impressive rate of knots. “You know,” she rested her head against Kassandra’s broad shoulder. “We haven’t done this since we were kids.”

“I’m pretty sure we didn’t do  _ this _ as kids,” Kassandra thought ahead with a wolfish grin. “I know I’d remember that.”

“Walking together, I meant,” Clio gave her a playful slap. “It’s nice spending time together away from work, no? Think about it, we’re not a whore and a mercenary right now,” she said quietly. “Just two women.”

They were at the gate to Markos’ yard now. It was open as usual, it had been for years now. The hinges had rusted shut some time after Kassandra had moved into Selene’s. Markos refused to replace them, insisting it was Kassandra’s job and she refused to replace them on principle, so the gate stood open.

It was fortunate they hadn’t rusted in the closed position Kassandra supposed as they made their way across the yard.

A few good strides in and she stopped suddenly, eyes narrowed, listening hard.

“What is it?” Clio whispered, as Kassandra carefully lowered her to the ground and handed back her bag.

“Something’s in the yard.” Without another word, she stalked off around the corner of the house and out of sight.

“Some... _ thing _ , is in the yard?” Clio thought, frowning. They weren’t reassuring final words as final words went, she decided, following at what she hoped was a safe distance.

She found Kassandra on her hands and knees, peering into the shadowy scrub beneath the henhouse. Clio stood for a moment or two, admiring the view, before clearing her throat.

“Now I see what the General found so inviting!”

Muffled cursing suggested that Kassandra had cracked her head as she got to her feet, startled.

“What was it?” Clio made her way over. Apart from the muted grumbling from the sleepy chickens, no doubt disturbed by Kassandra’s clumsiness, all was quiet.

“There’s nothing here now,” she was rubbing the back of her head a little ruefully. “But I definitely saw something moving back here. Not big enough for a person, but I couldn’t make out what it was.”

“Please don’t tell me you’re going to set up camp by the henhouse for the rest of the night?” Clio was making her way towards the house. “Because I won’t be joining you for that. How the hell do you open this door?” she rattled it loudly.

“Just put your hand in that gap and slide your fingers up a couple of inches,” Kassandra called over her shoulder, still squinting about the yard.

“Gods, Kass, I love it when you talk dirty,” Clio laughed, following her instructions and nearly falling in through the door. “Why does everything around this place either not open at all or open too much?” she found a lamp and tinder box on the window ledge.

“It’s Markos’ home security system,” Kassandra was beginning to think she must have been mistaken. She  _ had _ been paying more attention to Clio when all was said and done.

She paid attention to her once more as she lit the lamp and placed it on the table behind her.

The fabric of her chiton was fine enough for the back-light to reveal the curves of her legs and she was standing weight on one hip looking out at Kassandra. She couldn’t see her expression, but she could easily imagine it.

As Clio raised her bag and swung it slightly from side to side her voice confirmed Kassandra’s speculation.

“So, handsome. Are you going to sit out here all night waiting for some stray dog to wander back through the yard, or are you going to come with me and help...unpack this bag?”

Kassandra found she was suddenly very invested indeed in the idea of unpacking that bag. The henhouse was locked, the shutters closed. All would be well.

Clio retreated backwards into the kitchen wearing a sultry smile and still swinging the bag as Kassandra strode in, closing the door behind her. It suddenly occurred to her that Clio had never actually been in Markos’ house before and she was struck with an entirely inappropriate urge to show her around.

“This is the kitchen,” she lit a second lamp. “That’s a pantry through…”

“Hera’s mercy, Kass, I’m not here for a guided tour. Not of Markos’ house anyway,” Clio added slyly. “Though I do have some opinions on his decorating skills….patchy...that’s one opinion. Would you like another one?”

“Be kind,” Kassandra looked around. “I did most of...well  _ all _ of this.”

“When?”

“Back when I lived here,” Kassandra tailed off weakly.

“Exactly,” Clio gave a dismissive sniff. “And how long ago is that? Don’t answer, you’ll just depress yourself.”

Hey,” she added suddenly. “Do you suppose Selene has ever been here?” she peered into the pantry. “I’m sure he won’t mind if we use a little of what looks like very good olive oil?” she unstoppered the bottle and dipped her finger into the neck before licking it experimentally. “Yeah, I bet this isn’t the same stuff that he’s selling, the tubby little weasel.”

Kassandra was frowning hard, clearly thinking back to Clio’s question.

“She must have been at some time...oh yes, I definitely remember her being here when I broke my arm climbing,” she nodded. “But that was way before you came to work for her.  Selene got the healer for me, I remember that.”

“I was thinking more along the lines of whether she’d slept here to be honest,” Clio had securely stoppered the oil and placed the bottle in her bag.

“Yeah, she slept with me that night...maybe the night after as well I think?” Kassandra said thoughtfully. “She got me some sort of sleeping draught but I remember it still hurting a lot.”

“Kass,” Clio was beside her now. “I meant Selene  _ and _ Markos.”

“Gods teeth, Clio,” she recoiled. “I don’t want to think about  _ that _ .”

“Really?” Clio raised an eyebrow and went over to close a cupboard door that was was hanging askew. “I know she’s old enough to be our mother but Selene’s a very attractive woman...and she’s  _ not _ our mother when all’s said and done. Though I can see why  _ you _ might think of her that way.”

“I wasn’t thinking about the Selene side of things to be honest,” Kassandra was still grimacing. “I’ve never even seen Markos naked, I don’t need to imagine him…” she shuddered.

“Oh, I’ve seen him naked,” Clio shrugged. “He’s just kind of ordinary, until you remember he’s Markos and then he starts to look worse somehow,” she turned, holding out a hand. “Why is there a sandal in the kitchen cupboard?” she dangled it gingerly before dropping it beside the table.

“That’s a...new development,” Kassandra watched as the cupboard door creaked open again.  He probably thought fixing that was her job too.

“Well all this talk of Markos is in danger of cooling my ardor,” Clio wiped her fingers on the skirt of her chiton before sauntering over to Kassandra, hips swaying. “Are you going to be able to do anything about that, Kassandra of Sparta?” She stood on tiptoes and pressed a kiss to the angle of her jaw.

“You make it sounds like a challenge, Clio of Kephallonia,” she laughed fondly, wrapping her arms about Clio’s waist and lifting her to kiss her more easily. “And I am a misthios after all, not given to turning down a challenge.”

“Have at it then,” Clio wound her arms about Kassandra’s neck, wondering once again at the seemingly effortless ease with which she held her off her feet.

They stood in the dimly lit kitchen for some minutes, Clio held tightly in Kassandra’s arms. Their kisses began slowly, soft and languid, but before too long they each recognised the rising hunger in the other.

“Take me to bed, Kass,” Clio nibbled sharply at her ear. “You have risen to the challenge once again, it seems.” she locked her legs about her waist and kissed her deeply, catching at her lower lip as she withdrew, tugging playfully, careful not to draw blood. “Don’t forget the bag,” she whispered as Kassandra seemed about to head for the door.

Halfway up the stairs Clio stopped the teasing kisses she’d been peppering along her jaw and throat. Kassandra could feel that she’d tensed a little in her arms and stopped to look at her face, she looked anxious suddenly.

“What is it, treasure?” she tilted her head, concerned.

“Kass?” Clio drew back a little in her embrace. “We aren’t going to fuck in Markos’ bed are we? Because if the answer is yes...then the answer is no...if you know what I mean?”

Kassandra couldn’t prevent the inelegant snort of laughter that escaped her.

“Gods no, love,” she shook her head, continuing up the stairs to the landing. “I once found half a dried fig in his bed when I was changing the sheets. And the worst of it was, we hadn’t had dried figs for weeks, only fresh,” she laughed again at Clio’s shiver of disgust.

“No, we’re in the spare room, blue door,” she nodded, bending her knees so Clio could reach the handle and push the door open. “Where _I_ slept last night,” she kicked it closed after them. “Along with Phoibe of course,” she added playfully as she lowered Clio to the floor.

“I swear Kass,” Clio slapped her chest. “The way you’re carrying on I’m not entirely convinced that you want to do this at all. I’m wondering if half of you isn't already out there with the chickens, ever the misthios. Which, if I’m frank, I would consider a bit of a professional failure on my part.”

“Well,” Kassandra smiled, beginning to loosen the braids in Clio’s hair, combing her fingers slowly through as she unbound them. “I would imagine a woman in your profession should easily be able to get a woman in my profession back on track?” she raised an eyebrow.

“Ah ha, a challenge for  _ me _ ?” Clio took half a step back and flashed a look at Kassandra from beneath half lowered lids. Something about it took her breath away for a moment and it had barely returned when Clio reached up to the shoulders of her chiton, loosened the clasps and let it whisper slowly down her body to pool at her feet.

She was naked beneath it and Kassandra heard her own quiet gasp. So many times she’d seen Clio naked over the years, she’d seen her body grow from girl to woman and still she had the power to bring her to her knees, sometimes quite literally.

Clio laughed often in the bedroom. A younger, less experienced Kassandra had been a bit taken aback by it the first time, but she’d soon grown to see it as one of Clio’s sexiest qualities.

She wasn’t laughing now though as Kassandra sank to her knees before her with a dull thud that made her wince.

She wasn’t laughing as Kassandra took hold of her hips in strong hands and pulled her closer.

She wasn’t laughing as she began to nuzzle eagerly at her breasts, pulling at her stiffening nipples with careful teeth.

She still wasn’t laughing when Kassandra began to kiss and nip her way down her body, murmuring quiet praise as she went. When she reached the crest of her hip though Clio took hold of her head, easing it back to look in her desire darkened eyes.

“Take that armour off, Kass?” she tilted her head. “We don’t have to be quick and quiet. And I don’t want to be. Please?”

Kassandra was honestly surprised for a second or two, she’d been so caught up in the moment that she’d completely forgotten that she was still wearing her leathers from work.

“Would you like to help me?” she began to unfasten the first of the many straps and ties.

“If it’s all right, I’d quite like to lie here and watch,” Clio reclined on the bed, braced back on her elbows, gazing hungrily as Kassandra fumbled a little in her haste. “We’ve got all night...well all rest of the night,” she conceded. “I wouldn’t object to a little performance. It would make a nice change for me. Take that chestpiece off first. It hides much too much. Though I get that that’s the point.”

Kassandra found she was actually blushing a little as she began to work at the knot she’d caused by rushing. She was expecting some robust teasing about it from Clio, but she didn’t say a word, though Kassandra noticed she was breathing a little more deeply. She glanced up from beneath lowered lids as she pulled off the heavy leather chest and back pieces.

No, Clio certainly wasn’t laughing right now she thought with some satisfaction. She sauntered over to the corner of the room and pushed two chairs back to back to act as a makeshift rack for her armour and weapons.

“Your wish is my command,” she turned to face Clio, bracing her hands behind her on the backs of the chairs, knowing full well how it displayed her arms and shoulders. “What would you like me to do next?” she smirked as Clio licked her lips and shifted her hips a little.

“Those pteruges,” she said quietly. “I think they should go now.”

“Are you sure?” Kassandra’s hand hovered over the fastenings. “After all, they reveal almost as much as they hide,” she flexed a thigh by way of demonstration.

“That’s true,” Clio’s light green eyes were darkened enough for Kassandra to notice it even a couple of paces away. “But I don’t want anything concealed tonight, handsome. The pteruges now,” she nodded with mock severity.

Kassandra removed her sword belt, hung it over the chairs and began to unfasten her remaining armour, one eye on Clio the whole time, she was biting her lower lip and watching her progress with hooded eyes. Kassandra’s sharp sense of smell caught the scent of her arousal in the air and she had to force herself to go slow, to oblige Clio’s desires.

“These next, I imagine?” she smiled wolfishly, hanging the heavy leather belt and beginning to toe off her boots.

“Whoa,whoa,whoa,” Clio held up a hand. “Slow down there, daughter of Hermes. Sit, why don’t you? Take them off slowly for me, there’s a good misthios,” she teased.

Kassandra shook her head, chuckling quietly, but she followed Clio’s instructions all the same, she noticed.

“So is this what a night’s work is like for you?” she asked, getting to her feet and tucking her heavy boots under the chairs.

Clio gave a soft sigh and Kassandra wondered for a moment if she’d said the wrong thing, or chosen the wrong moment for it at any rate, but after a barely perceptible pause she continued affably.

“Well except that more often than not  _ I’m _ standing where you are. And none of our customers are anywhere near as attractive as you.”

Kassandra turned to face her again, tilted her head a little and held her hands out slightly, the question unspoken.

“Take off your tunic, Kass,” Clio’s voice was suddenly uncharacteristically thick as she answered. “Please?”

“You don’t have to beg, Clio,” she smiled, reaching for the shoulders of her tunic and pulling it up slowly, tensing the muscles of her hips and belly as she did. Even with the fabric gathered around her head she could hear Clio’s needy groan. She pulled the tunic off the rest of the way and quickly laid it over her armour.

She didn’t know if Clio wanted to continue playing this game but as she shifted on the bed Kassandra could see how her inner thighs glistened in the low lamp light, could smell the heady scent of her.

“Gods, Clio,” she strode over, unable to wait any longer. “You are so beautiful,” she lowered herself onto the bed and took her in her arms, feeling and hearing Clio’s stuttering intake of breath.

“You are all I have been able to think about all evening,” she buried her face between the warm swell of Clio’s breasts and breathed deeply.

“You,” she murmured. “This!” she nuzzled softly between her breasts. “This!” she slid a hand down Clio’s belly, raking gently with her nails, till her fingers slipped between Clio’s quivering thighs, felt the slick arousal there and groaned herself.

“Do you want me to wear your new toy?” she asked huskily, cupping Clio’s sex in her rough palm, feeling the wet heat of her right down into her own tightening cunt and racing pulse.

“Or shall we save that for later?” she ran the flat of her tongue wetly down Clio’s torso, curled it teasingly into her navel.

“Much as I want to get my drachma's worth out of that thing, do  _ not _ stop touching me right now Kass,” Clio knotted her hands firmly in Kassandra’s hair, wrecking the last of her braid and not caring, as she pushed her head down to where she ached for her mouth.

Kassandra gladly allowed herself to be led. She traced the borders of Clio’s neatly trimmed hair with nose and lips, tugged lightly with her teeth, filled her senses with her. The tickle of her soft curls,the thick musk of her desire, the slippery folds of her flesh.

She parted the lips of Clio’s cunt with gentle thumbs and gazed hungrily before bending to lap at the slick flow of her arousal.

Clio groaned deep in her chest as Kassandra teased her stiffening clit between her lips, drawing it gently into her mouth, sucking rhythmically.

Seconds later an enormous metallic clatter from the backyard made them both jump so suddenly that her knee hit Kassandra right in the mouth, drawing blood.

Before Clio could even gather herself to begin to apologise Kassandra was off the bed and across to the window, quietly opening the shutters and peering out into the gloom. After a moment or two she turned and grinned at Clio with bloodied teeth.

“Got them” she had one leg over the window ledge before Clio could speak. “They’ve stolen their last bloody chicken. Wait here, treasure, I won’t be long.”

Clio sat looking at the vacant window ledge and rubbed her knee where Kassandra’s tooth had caught it. She’d leapt out of the bloody window unarmed and in her underwear, the ridiculous oaf, she thought, glancing over at the pile of weapons and armour sitting uselessly on the chairs.

Kassandra registered the same fact just a few seconds after Clio did. By this time she was crouched on one knee in the dirt beneath the window. She glanced up quickly, and considered scrambling back up to at least get her spear.

Across the yard she could see a man’s narrow ass and scrawny legs sticking out from under the henhouse. She decided that she didn’t have much to fear from a cowardly chicken thief, and she definitely didn’t want him to hear her clambering up the wall and take the opportunity to make a run for it.

Standing upright, she spat a mouthful of blood into the dust and began to pad silently across the yard. She was uncomfortably aware that a good deal of what she could feel smearing between her toes was chicken shit, but now wasn’t the time to worry about that.

The intruder didn’t hear her approach. She was right up by his feet now, his pale, hairy legs were wriggling in the dirt as he tried to edge a little further under the shed.

“Can I help you?” Kassandra barked, deepening her voice a little.

She was rewarded with, in quick succession, a startled squeak, a satisfyingly solid thud and a brief string of expletives. Kassandra finally understood why other people found it so amusing when this happened to her.

As the intruder backed clumsily out from under the chicken house the short skirts of his chiton rucked up about his hips, which was enough to bring Kassandra’s chuckles to a swift halt.

She stood to her full height, legs akimbo, hands on hips, chin raised, brows lowered. She could look imposing in her underwear she decided, it was just a matter of presentation.

“First of all, cover yourself,” she nodded at the unprepossessing figure standing before her, chiton in disarray, covered in dust. He was rubbing his head gingerly. It had been a satisfyingly solid thump, Kassandra thought, smirking to herself.

She watched as he fumbled with the skirts of his chiton, smoothing it out and making a vain attempt to dust himself off.

He was a shifty looking little article Kassandra thought. Some of that could obviously be down to the unusual circumstances of their meeting, but nevertheless there was something about his twitchy body language and narrowed, darting eyes that she wasn't warming to.

“Who the hell are you? And what the hell are you doing sneaking about under Markos’ henhouse?” she asked sternly.

“Markos’ henhouse?” he looked up sharply, meeting her eyes for the first time. He didn’t hold them for long but he did swallow hard at the sight of the huge, impressively muscled woman glaring down at him. “Then you must be, oh! You must...be…”

“Kassandra of Sparta,” she declaimed with more authority than she’d really earned, standing half naked with her feet covered in chicken shit. But it was all about confidence after all. She crossed her arms.

“Oh!” he shifted from foot to foot. “I must have got turned around, I didn’t realise. I certainly didn’t know there was anyone at home.”

Kassandra glanced back, the kitchen door was closed, and she had only just opened the shutters in the bedroom, the dim lamplight would not have been obvious before. But his explanation, such as it was, did nothing to make him appear any less suspicious.

“That’s as maybe,” she frowned. “But it doesn’t answer my question...questions...there were two,” she over-elaborated.

“There was, were?” he wrinkled his brows. “I’m sorry...could you just run them by me again?” he was back rubbing at his head.

“Fuck’s sake!” Kassandra grumbled under her breath.

She was suddenly painfully aware that Clio was in the bedroom, warm, wet and waiting for her, and here she was stuck in the yard with some weaselly chicken thief nursing a concussion. She should just punt him over the fence and be done with it.

“Who the hell are you?” she snapped, she definitely didn’t recognize his face.

“Me?” he said, infuriatingly.

He’d no idea how close he was coming to getting kicked through that shed, Kassandra thought, taking a slow breath in through her nose.

“Oh, yes, of course. My name is Oicles, pleased to meet you, Kassandra of Sparta,” he gave her a thin lipped smile, his eyes darting shiftily about the yard, possibly for an escape route she thought.

Kassandra considered for a moment if she could be bothered to give chase should he set off at a run.

On the one hand, it would be bad for her reputation if word got round that this feeble specimen had got away. On the other hand, quite literally, she could still smell Clio on her fingers.

“And why were you under the fucking henhouse?” she snapped impatiently.

“Oh...yes,” he cast a quick glance behind him. “I was looking for Aphrodite.”

Oh that was just marvelous, Kassandra gazed skyward and heaved a huge sigh. He was a madman as well.

“I’m not a religious woman by any means, Oicles,” she glowered, “but I think I can say, with some degree of certainty that you are not going to find her under Markos’ henhouse.”

“But I’m sure I saw her running this way,” he edged a step closer and assumed an ingratiating posture. Neither thing did much to endear him to her. “Grey and white,” he added conspiratorially.

“What the hell are you talking about, man?” she threw out her hands questioningly.

There was a quiet noise behind her but she was more concerned with Oicles creeping back over to the shed.

“Oh no you don’t,” she grabbed the back of his chiton. “Get out of there. Who is this Aphrodite you’re talking about?”

“My cat,” he wriggled free and turned to look at her. “I named her after the goddess because she is the...” he heaved a sigh, “the most beautiful and elegant of cats. A goddess among cats if you like?”

Kassandra didn’t like, really. She could take or leave cats most of the time, but nothing about this current interaction was making her feel any warmer about the feline in question.

“I’m sure the goddess is enormously flattered,” she scowled, taking his arm to lead him out of the yard. “But clearly your cat is not under the henhouse, so off you go. Good luck in your search.”

“No, but, she’s definitely here. I’m sure she’s here. She can  _ only _ be here,” he shook off her arm and grabbed her hand. “I saw her run in here, I know I did.”

“Of course you did,” Kassandra adopted a soothing tone. “And now she’s run off somewhere else as cats are given to do, no?”

“But…” Oicles looked up at her, suddenly calculating. “You are a hunter, no?”

“I  _ am _ a hunter, yes,” Kassandra nodded, not sure where he was going with this but pretty confident she wouldn’t enjoy the destination.

“ _ You _ could find my cat, my sweet Aphrodite, my dusk-shadowed love,” he leaned closer.

“Right,” Kassandra drew back warily. “Clearly you have a very...special relationship with your cat, but I try not to judge in these matters. So, come back in the morning and we’ll sort something out Oicles, assuming you have the drachmae to pay for my time.”

“Oh the drachmae, yes, of course,” his voice cooled. “I was quite forgetting. You are of course a... _ mercenary _ as well as a hunter. Yes I have drachmae. You can have them all if you find my sweet golden eyed heart-mate.”

“Good,” Kassandra grimaced a little. “Because mercenaries have to keep themselves shod and fed just like anyone else. What do _ you _ do for a living by the way, Oicles? I don’t recall ever seeing you around these parts.”

“Me, no, you wouldn’t have,” he replied evasively, still glancing back towards the henhouse now and again. “I’m a trader, a businessman, I’m just here for a short while, important… transactions to be arranged. Bonds to be...forged.”

“And you brought your bloody cat with you?” Kassandra raised an eyebrow.

“I go nowhere without her,” he protested. “But now you understand why I am so worried. She doesn’t know her way around here. It’s all strange to her. Strange and dangerous. But she can’t have gone far. Help me look now, quickly.”

“Absolutely not,” Kassandra shook off his hand. “I will be only too happy to look for your cat tomorrow. Grey and white. Indecently attractive. Leave it with me. Where are you staying? The tavern I assume?”

“No!” he snapped unexpectedly. “We need to look now!”

“It’s not like you to turn your nose up at a pussy hunt,” came Clio’s amused voice from the kitchen doorway. “Is everything all right, Kass?” she held Kassandra’s short sword awkwardly in one hand. “I was concerned that you left unarmed.”

“Everything is fine,” Kassandra raised a hand. “Nothing to worry about.”

“You’re sure?” Clio stepped into the doorway.

She’d put on some filmy nightgown that she must have packed. Back-lit as she was by the lamplight she was as effectively displayed as she was concealed.

Suddenly Kassandra was reminded of what Oicles had interrupted, she unconsciously raised her hand to her face and the scent of Clio flooded her senses.

“This man has lost his cat,” she wanted rid of him, right now. She wished his cat, if it existed at all, no ill, but she had far more pressing concerns. “I’ll help him look tomorrow. Off you go Oicles. Try not to worry, get some sleep.”

“I  _ had _ heard tell that Kassandra of Sparta had a kind and generous heart beneath her rugged exterior,” he muttered resentfully. “Clearly I was misinformed.”

“Hey now,” Clio took a step over the threshold. “No need to be like that,  _ Oicles _ was it? Kass will help you, she’s said she will. But it’s the small hours now. People should be in bed, not roaming around in the dark.”

Oicles eyes narrowed, Kassandra didn’t like the way he was looking at Clio, although she totally understood it.

“I do apologise, clearly I...interrupted you and your...companion,” he grinned slyly at Kassandra, eyeing her state of undress. “If you were to quickly help me find Aphrodite, then I could be on my way and you could go back inside...pick up where you left off.”

“Tomorrow Oicles,” she took hold of his shoulder and began to urge him in the direction of the gate. “Tomorrow we can hunt her together.”

“Doesn’t generally take you long to connect with Aphrodite, it’ll be the work of a moment,” Clio laughed, leaning against the doorpost.

“Clio, go inside, please,” Kassandra rolled her eyes as they walked past. “I’ll be up in a minute.”

Clio arched her eyebrows and was about to speak but Oicles had come to an abrupt stop.

“Clio?” he made a show of frowning thoughtfully. “Clio? Clio? The name rings a bell. Have we met, young lady?”

“I don’t believe so,” Clio shook her head affably enough. “I generally have a good memory for faces... and so on,” she gave Kassandra a playful look.

“Clio!” she growled warningly. “Please wait inside, you’ll get cold,” she gave Oicles a sharp yank to get him past the door but he turned back quickly.

“Indeed,” he smiled leeringly. “You are barely dressed for the weather my dear, in fact you seem a little...chilled already,” he ran a thin tongue over equally thin lips.

“That’s enough out of you,” Kassandra almost pulled him off his feet by the shoulder of his chiton but before she could drag him away, he’d given his forehead a theatrical slap and laughed.

“Of course! Clio!” he announced. “Clio, from the whorehouse, no?”

“Watch your mouth!” Kassandra gave him a hard shake. She’d been about to simply lead him to the gate but he was going the right way about getting thrown through it.

“Oh, I do apologise miss,” he dipped his head in Clio’s direction, not sounding sorry at all. “Is it  _ not _ Clio from the whorehouse? Some other Clio perhaps? Not a common name, you must excuse my mistake. I had no desire to offend you. Perhaps I wasn’t thinking clearly with your... _ companion _ shaking me like a rat.”

“Perhaps if you weren’t behaving like one,” Kassandra growled.

“No, you’re right,” Clio had propped the sword inside by the door and had her arms folded now. She somehow looked a lot less vulnerable without the weapon, Kassandra thought.

“Have we met?” she tilted her head at Oicles and raised an eyebrow. “Because I certainly don’t remember your face. Perhaps if you raised your tunic it might come back to me?”

“No, no, miss,” Oicles’ response was oily. “I never avail myself of such services. Though, clearly, there’s nothing wrong with it, in its place. I merely wonder if this is, in fact, such a place? Perhaps I should ask Markos tomorrow when I come to see you about looking for my cat?”

Kassandra’s fury flared up like a dry brush fire. She hauled Oicles clean off his feet by the neck of his chiton leaving his feet treading water feebly.

“Listen to me, you shifty little weasel,” she pulled him close, snarling right in his face. “If one word of this reaches Markos, by the next morning the whole of Kephallonia will have heard about your nocturnal explorations around people’s hen houses...looking for your  _ cat _ , if the bloody cat even exists!  Odd you should be doing this when an elderly widow is having her chickens stolen, no? Chickens that provide her with her only source of income. People round here take a very dim view of things like that.”

“Kass?” Clio’s voice had an edge of plea to it.

Kassandra heard but couldn’t draw her eyes away from Oicles’ fidgety expression, he seemed unable to meet her gaze.

“Kass!” Clio tried again and this time she looked at her. “I think Oicles understands the situation now, no?” she gave him a hopeful look.

“Indeed, indeed,” he managed with some difficulty, his chiton gathered tightly about his neck.”I’m sure we can manage to keep this agreement between us like mature adults.”

“I wasn’t aware of there being an agree…” Kassandra’s arm tensed dramatically, she was clearly about to drag him up to eye level again.

“I think he means you said you’d keep an eye out for his cat,” Clio reached out and stroked her arm gently. “And you’ll do that, right? And then there’ll be no need for Oicles to make the journey all the way here to discuss it tomorrow.”

“Of course I’ll look for his bloody cat,” Kassandra relaxed her grip, smoothed out the shoulder of his chiton. “I’ve nothing against cats...cats that exist anyway.”

“Just as I have nothing against Aphrodite’s priestesses of the night,” he dipped his head in Clio’s direction. “In their place.”

Gods, it was like the man  _ wanted _ to end up on his back spitting out his teeth Kassandra scowled. Perhaps he did, she’d encountered it before.

“I will keep a sharp lookout for your mysterious cat,” she leaned down, glaring at him, almost nose to nose. “You are going to leave now, and if I find you lurking about the place again I will be much,  _ much _ less understanding...understand?”

“You make yourself perfectly clear,” he drew back nervously. “I can see that this is the best I am going to get, whilst you are so...distracted,” he shot a glance at Clio.

“Oicles, quit while you’re...well, not exactly ahead,” Clio wore a thoughtful expression. “While you’re not getting your arms rearranged at any rate.”

“Indeed,” Oicles made a last ditch attempt to recover some dignity, straightening the skirt of his chiton, brushing off dust. He darted a final twitchy look over at the henhouse.

“I suppose a cup of water is out of the question?” he glanced up at Kassandra’s stony face.

“You suppose correctly,” she slapped a hand between his shoulder blades. “Allow me to show you the gate, and then the way through it.”

The pressure at his back suggested that resistance would be, at best unwise. Head bowed, he allowed himself to be led away round the corner of the building.

Clio was still standing, leaning against the doorpost when Kassandra returned, alone, muttering quietly.

“Kass, that was so hot,” she purred, running her fingers along her own collar bone, down into the valley of her cleavage.

“Really?” Kassandra felt desire wrestling annoyance into submission. It was a short, one sided bout.

She strode over to Clio, grinning wolfishly and slipped her arms about her waist, bending to nose into the hair over her ears, growling low.

“Gods, yes,” Clio tilted her head back, baring her throat invitingly.

Kassandra breathed deep and licked along the enticing curve of Clio’s neck, pausing to feel her pulse beating beneath her tongue.

“There’s nothing more arousing than watching my big, strong, indecently handsome misthios scaring the water out of some scrawny little bloke looking for his imaginary cat...whilst he’s possibly not quite the full drachma,” she teased. “And if she can do it with her feet covered in chicken shit, so much the better. It won’t take you long to get me there after all that Kass, I swear.”

Kassandra laughed despite herself and eased her embrace, drawing back just enough to look down at her legs.

“Is that you asking me to wash my feet?” she raised her eyebrows.

“You’d do that? For me?” Clio rested a hand against Kassandra’s chest, pressed firmly. “Truly you are the most generous and sensitive of lovers. Be quick now. A woman can only wait so long,” she wriggled out of Kassandra’s arms and strolled across the kitchen, hips swaying theatrically.

For a moment Kassandra considered just striding over and taking her, laying her down on the kitchen floor right there, devouring her with her tongue and fingers.

What common sense she still possessed raised its hand politely and pointed out that the floor needed sweeping and Clio was wearing a very lovely nightgown.

Kassandra ran to the pump.

It occurred to her as she stood shaking the water from her feet like a wet dog that they’d only get dirty again if she walked across the yard. Up through the window it was then.

She was standing there, grinning triumphantly when Clio entered the room.

“Hera’s grace Kass!” she put her hand to her breasts. “You will scare me into the arms of Charon one of these days,” she closed the door behind her and walked over.

“Sorry,” Kassandra smiled apologetically. “I didn’t want to get my feet dirty again.”

“You’re forgiven,” Clio ran her fingers across Kassandra’s shoulders, followed the path of her collar bone, rubbed tenderly at the small lump of an old break, continued on down her chest.

Tucking her fingers into the fabric of her breastband she pulled her close, knowing full well that she was only able to move her because Kassandra allowed it.

“For the coming in though the window anyway,” she growled. “For the jumping out of it in the first place and leaving me hanging? Well you’ve got some work to do, to make up for that.”

“It’s not work if you’re enjoying it,” Kassandra slid her hands down Clio’s body, teasingly slow, rubbing firm circles at her hips before reaching round to cup the supple swell of her ass, lifting her, carrying her to the bed and setting her down.

“Gods Clio,” she shook her head as Clio sat. “You look so beautiful tonight. I’ve not seen this before have I?” she sank to her knees and ran her hands up her hips, over the dip of her waist, feeling the delicate fabric catch on the rough callouses on her palms.

“No handsome, you haven’t,” Clio leaned back a little on her braced arms, drawing the fabric tight across her breasts.

It was so fine Kassandra could see the dark skin of her areolae and tautening nipples.

“It occurred to me that I never really wore anything pretty for you in all the time we shared a bed. You just got the comfy chitons and threadbare tunics.”

“And the bare skin,” Kassandra knelt up and leaned closer. Clio could feel her warm breath tickling against her throat. “Don’t forget the bare skin. I never do,” she bent and kissed the soft skin above Clio’s cleavage.

“Is that your way of asking me to take this off?” she laughed fondly.

Ordinarily Kassandra would have been only too eager to pull off the nightgown and expose Clio’s soft, fragrant skin to her hungry kisses, but the gown was so lovely, so fine, clung to her so closely. She seemed somehow more naked with it on.

“Soon,” she groaned. “Not just yet,” she felt Clio part her knees, encouraging Kassandra to shuffle a little closer.

She slid her hands back down to Clio’s hips, pulled her closer to the edge of the bed and bent her head to her breasts, kissing, licking, biting at them till the fabric was so wet and translucent it was as though she wore nothing at all.

Clio wrapped her fingers in the loose waves of Kassandra’s hair, grinning joyfully at the strong grip of her hands and the warm wetness of her tongue.

She moaned low as Kassandra sucked her aching nipples deep into her mouth, shifting from one to the other, pausing only to nose at the warm valley of her cleavage.

“Is it  _ soon _ yet, Kass?” she smiled down at her, nipping her lower lip playfully, wrinkling her nose slightly as she narrowed her eyes.

“It certainly feels like it,” Kassandra leaned back a little and watched with desire darkened eyes as Clio reached up and slid the shoulders of her nightgown down with excruciating slowness. The fabric caught on the swell of her breasts, Clio pulled a little harder, dragging past them, the friction making the yielding flesh quiver as she freed them. She laughed fondly at Kassandra’s appreciative growl.

She looked so gorgeous, Kassandra thought. She’d heard tales from visiting sailors about statues of Aphrodite so lovely that men were driven mad with desire, but they could be nowhere near as lovely as Clio she thought.

Warm and fragrant, her flesh silky and supple, the fabric gathered about her waist only served to emphasise the nakedness of her upper body and Kassandra burned with the need to taste her, the thick musk of her sex, the salt of her sweat.

She bent forward and ran the wet tip of her tongue around the puckering skin of her areola, catching the taut nipple between her teeth, sucking it deep into the wet heat of her mouth to feel it relax, only to tease it to erection again with an edge of teeth.

Kassandra could feel the tight knot of arousal deep in her gut begin to unfurl and spread. It snaked, warm and throbbing down into her cunt, seeped through her groin, making the muscles of her thighs tremble.

She felt it squirming, swiftly up through her belly, coiling around her spine, up and up to bite hard at the base of her skull, setting her mind aflame with desire for Clio. She pulled her closer, fast and hard, reaching for the hem of her gown, sliding it up her legs, releasing her breasts only when she felt the bare skin of her knee.

Shifting back a little, unselfconsciously awkward, she bent and kissed and nipped at the tender skin on the inside of Clio’s knee before licking, hot and wet, up her thigh. She could feel fingers knotted desperately in her hair, pulling hard, urging her to move faster, to skate swiftly over the silky skin of Clio’s thigh to where the wet heat of Kassandra’s mouth could meet its match.

For the second time that evening they both startled at the sound of metallic clattering in the yard. This time Kassandra emerged uninjured but all too aware of how rapidly one form of passion could mutate into another as she leapt to her feet, snarling with frustrated rage.

“For fuck’s sake, leave it Kass, please,” there was more than an edge of pleading in Clio’s voice as she reached out for her.

“If this is that shifty little rat back again, looking for his imaginary pet then I swear I am going to break something,” Kassandra looked over her shoulder as she made for the window. “So, don’t come down if that’s going to upset you Clio,” she swung one leg over the ledge.

“Kass, leave it,” Clio sighed, already recognizing a lost cause. “You don’t have to be such a misthios  _ all _ the time, just let it go for once.”

She’d already disappeared out of the window. Clio leaned back on her elbows, let her head flop back and heaved a huge sigh.

Why did she never use a door like a normal person? Not that it wasn’t massively sexy in its way, but surely she was going to break her fool neck one of these days?

Clio was beginning to wonder if the whole night was going to be a wash out.

“Blessed Aphrodite,” she murmured. “I have never shirked my devotions have I? Or skimped in my sacrifices? Please, could you cut me a little slack? Just this once?”

The first interruption had been frustrating enough, but now her body was taut as a bowstring, her hands trembling and palms sweaty. It would be so easy to just lie back on the bed and deal with this herself, like most nights. But never the nights with Kassandra, she thought.

She gave an annoyed grunt and picked up her bag from beside the bed. From the large cloth bag she removed another, smaller one and from this she produced Pero the leather-worker's handiwork.

Clio eyed it with some satisfaction, hefted the weight of it in her palm. The olisbos itself was a rich mid-brown, burnished smooth. Pero’s stitching was obvious but beautifully neat and even. The straps were of the same leather, buttery soft with heavily polished brass fixings.

She placed it carefully on the bed, then removed the bottle of olive oil that she’d purloined from the kitchen and placed it on the floor nearby.

She had not carted this bloody olisbos across two scrubby fields just so she could get herself off while Kassandra brawled with some simpleton in the yard, damn it.

Though now she came to think, there’s wasn’t any sound of brawling. Kassandra wasn’t particularly quiet whether she was making love  _ or _ war. What was going on?

Clio pulled up the bodice of her gown and went to the window to look. It was a bit dim to see, so she turned up the lamp and moved it closer to the ledge, allowing it to illuminate the yard a bit.

What the hell was she doing?


	3. Chapter 3

Kassandra was on top of the hen-house, on her hands and knees. Well knees, certainly, though now Clio squinted a little more she could see that she was holding something in her arms.

“What in the name of Hades are you doing, you big ox? Why are you on top of the bloody chicken shed?” she called.

Kassandra looked up and even from here Clio could see her delighted grin. She knelt upright and held out her hands.

The longest cat Clio had ever seen was hanging from its...armpits, she supposed? Leg-pits? Whichever it was, it swung slowly from side to side in Kassandra’s grip.

“There _was_ a cat after all,” Kassandra yelled, a little redundantly under the circumstances.

“Well hurrah,” Clio replied dryly. She leaned forward on the window ledge, shaking her head fondly, amused now despite her frustration. Frustration that still coiled low in her belly. “Are you going to run after whatshisname to apologise?”

“The fuck I am!” Kassandra laughed. “I’m putting this cat in a crate till the morning, then I’m going to find its little shit of an owner and ram it right down his chiton.”

“I don’t think you should give it back to be honest,” Clio watched in amusement as Kassandra tried to wrestle the limp cat up into her arms. “I suspect he was being indecent with it.”

“How the hell do you do that with a cat?” Kassandra scooped up the cat’s rear legs, only to have its front half slip through her grasp again.

“There are so many pussy jokes available to me here,” Clio laughed, watching her flail. “I don’t know where to begin. Can you just imagine that I said the funniest of them?”

“Absolutely,” Kassandra said, clearly distracted. She seemed to have most of the cat in her grasp now and started to get to her feet.

This proved to be a big mistake. Clio watched in shock as Kassandra stood up, grinning triumphantly, only to disappear through the roof with a startled squawk, cat still clasped in her arms.

“Oh shit!” Clio shot back, horrified. She struggled into her sandals as quickly as she could and raced full tilt downstairs.

As she skidded to a halt in the dusty yard she was relieved to hear angry cursing from inside the chicken shed. Angry cursing and a cacophony of chicken terror, which she supposed might also have been angry cursing in its way.

No wonder those chickens didn’t like her.

But the anger presumably indicated that she wasn’t badly hurt. Clio made her way over to the shed just as the door flew open and a disheveled Kassandra staggered out, a shell-shocked looking cat in her arms.

She completely misinterpreted Clio’s expression.

“It’s all right,” she ruffled the cat’s ears. “I cushioned its fall.”

From its expression Clio wasn’t sure that the cat agreed with Kassandra’s assessment of the situation. From the scratches on her face, chest and shoulders it appeared to have voiced its opinion on the way down.

“You’re all right aren’t you, cat?” Kassandra seemed determined to convince it.

“Give it here,” Clio held out her arms, the cat was surprisingly heavy but a good deal more co-operative once it was out of Kassandra’s embrace. It clung to Clio’s shoulder rumbling low in her ear.

“Are you hurt?” she eyed Kassandra warily. She was certainly a little...disarrayed, but nothing looked like it was broken.

“Of course I’m hurt,” she grumbled, rubbing her ass ruefully with one hand while she explored a scratch on her chin with the other. “I just fell through the roof of the bloody henhouse.”

“Hey, don’t get snappy with me,” Clio warned. “You shouldn’t have been up there in the first place you great ox! The size of you. And close the door quick before the hens make a run for it. Markos is going to be furious enough when he sees his roof.”

Kassandra did as she was told and stood back, sighing heavily. Now she was going to have to try and fix that before he and Phoibe got back. So much for a leisurely morning in bed with Clio.

“You said you have a basket?” Clio got her attention.”For the cat?” she scratched firmly behind its ear.

“Hmm? Yeah, in the stable,” Kassandra nodded. “I’ll go get it.”

“No, no, leave it to me, you go get washed, you’re covered in blood and...well I’m assuming that’s chicken shit again,” Clio sighed. “It’s been a bit of a theme for the evening so far, I wish you’d warned me in advance, it’s not something I do personally, and I’m pretty sure I’d charge a lot extra if I did.

Much as she didn’t want to end up under the cold pump water again, Kassandra had to admit that she had a point.

When she at last turned round, naked and clean but decidedly chilled, she found Clio sitting on the doorstep with the cat in her arms, both watching with interest.

“Why isn’t it in the basket?” she tried to shake off the worst of the water, wishing she had a towel.

“It likes to watch as it turns out,” Clio rubbed her nose into the thick fur of its ruff and was quietly pleased when it purred and rubbed back. “It’s been taught bad habits, clearly,” she gave a final kiss to the top of the cat’s head and placed it in the wicker crate, carefully closing the door.

“ _Now_ where are you going with it?” Kassandra asked, puzzled, as she followed them into the kitchen.

“To bed?” Clio looked over her shoulder. “Even though the Fates are throwing obstacles in my path willy-nilly, I’m not giving up. Come on Misthios, step to it.”

“And the cat?” Kassandra loped upstairs after them.

“I’ll make it face the wall,” Clio laughed, kicking open the bedroom door.

She placed the basket in the corner nearest the door, safely out of harm’s way and checked the door for a bolt. There was one, she was pleased to see, applying it, before turning to lean back against the rough wood and looking at Kassandra.

She’d found a towel and was making a quick, rather cursory attempt to dry herself whilst still keeping an eye on Clio.

“Locking me in, Clio?” she grinned, tossing the towel onto a nearby chair and shifting her gaze to the bed, smirking a little at the sight of the strap-on.

“Damn right I am,” Clio nodded. “Close those shutters,” she strode over to the bed. "You’ve left me swinging in the wind twice now, which is shockingly ill mannered. I don’t know who’s taught you that _that’s_ acceptable.”

Kassandra barred the shutters and took a couple of strides over to stand close to Clio.

“So, you’re going to hold me hostage?” She grinned, cocking her head, amused.

“You are not leaving this room, via the door _or_ the window, till I say so,” Clio shook her head. “Cerberus himself can come romping into the yard to raid that bloody chicken house and you are staying. I would lie here and listen to him eat every one of them and then I’d explain it to Phoibe in the morning, that’s how serious I am. Now, strap up, Misthios, you’ve work to do.”

“Have I told you, Clio of Kephallonia, that you are one of my very favourite people?” Kassandra laughed.

She picked up the olisbos and examined it with interest.

“I didn’t get to see this finished, it’s really nice,” she turned back to face Clio.

She was already out of her nightgown and Kassandra felt her banked down arousal flare up, hot and swift as she took in the curve of her ass, the dip of her waist, the sway of her breasts.

“I thought you might be wanting to make a bit of a performance out of this?” she grinned, swinging the strap-on from one finger.

“Yes, well, I tried getting a performance out of you earlier,” Clio stepped close, the stiff peaks of her nipples rubbing against Kassandra's ribs, provoking a shiver.

“And we were thwarted by a wandering simpleton. Well, frustrate me once, shame on you,” she pressed against her, ran blunt nails up the muscles of her thighs.

Kassandra felt a wet pulse of arousal and moaned low.

“Frustrate me twice, well, even more shame on you, I suppose,” Clio stood on tiptoes, breathed the words between Kassandra’s open lips.

“Frustrate you three times?” she whispered.

Clio’s lips were so close she swore she could feel the warmth of them, urging her to close the final tiny gap.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Clio growled, fisting her hands in Kassandra’s hair, pulling her down into a hard, messy kiss.

Kassandra was instantly lost, the room fading and receding till nothing existed for her but the warmth of Clio’s mouth, the slick muscle of her tongue, the scrape of blunt nails against the small of her back, the wet heat of her cunt against Kassandra’s thigh.

“You know, I didn’t carry this all the way here just so you could swing it from your hand,” she broke the kiss, slid soft, slender fingers down the cords of Kassandra’s forearm. “Buckle up, Kass,” she whispered.

Kassandra made to move, then stopped and grinned slowly.

“Make me!”

Clio drew back a way and placed her hands on her hips, amusement writ large on her face.

“Is that right, Misthios?” she licked her lips. “Very well, we can play that game, if you like.”

Before Kassandra had a chance to reconsider, Clio had snatched the strap-on from her hand, grabbed hold of her elbow and, capitalizing on the element of surprise, swung her round till she stood with her back to her.

“You know, Kass,” she growled, shoving her knee between Kassandra’s legs, parting them enough for access, licking wetly up the valley of her spine before pressing an open mouthed kiss between her shoulder blades. “If this was what you really wanted all along, all you had to do was say so,” she reached around and pressed the base of the olisbos hard against Kassandra’s pubic bone.

In fairness she thought, as Clio fitted the straps with smooth efficiency, she hadn’t wanted this earlier, or hadn’t realised that she did. Clio cinched the last strap so tightly she felt it bite into Selene’s stitching and hissed, startled.

“Sorry,” Clio whispered, immediately contrite. “Too tight?”

“No,” Kassandra reached back, caught Clio’s waist, pulled her close, sighing at the yielding pressure of her breasts against her back. “Leave it,” she growled. “It feels good.”

“Sure?” Clio checked, grasping the smooth leather shaft and pulling hard.

The harness bit into the stitches again and Kassandra found herself wanting more. She covered Clio’s hand with her own calloused fingers, urging her to stroke harder.

Soon she couldn’t distinguish between the pleasure and the pain. The maddening friction of the straps between her legs, the diffuse pressure of the base not quite hitting her aching clit, the stinging bite of the harness against the recent injury.

It was overwhelming and not enough. She looked down, watched their linked hands working eagerly at the burnished leather, felt the soft skin of Clio’s hand beneath her fingertips.

“Oh gods Clio,” she groaned, feeling her hips thrusting in time with her strokes, so very, very good, but still not enough. “Gods, please Clio, please,” she hadn’t meant to beg, but couldn’t stop herself.

“Please what, Kass?” Clio kissed between her shoulder blades again. “I’m not an oracle love. Tell me what you need. Whatever it is, you can have it, I promise.”

It was all right Kassandra told herself, knees weakening, it was Clio, it was all right with Clio.

“You, Clio,” she whispered. “I need you, please, let me,” the words caught in her throat as Clio reached around and caught her nipple between the fingers of her free hand, scissored hard.

“You’ve got me, Kass,” she breathed, pinching hard, grinning at the hiss she elicited. “I’m right here, handsome. What else can I do for you? Or is it something you want to do for me? _To_ me?” she bit hard into the muscle of Kassandra’s deltoid, felt her press back hard against her, felt the grip of her powerful hand increase, forcing Clio to stroke harder, faster.

Kassandra was whimpering now, biting her lip hard, reopening the small split that Clio’s knee had caused earlier. She took pity on her.

“Is it that you want to fuck me, Kass?” she growled. “Is that what you need? Because it’s what I need too.”

“Gods yes,” Kassandra’s growling assent started deep in her chest, emerged low and rough as she turned in her arms, took a firm hold of her jaw and kissed her deep and hard. Clio could taste the warm metallic tang of blood on her tongue.

Kassandra had hold of her upper arms now, was turning her back towards the bed, stumbling and awkward, unwilling to release Clio’s mouth, pushing her back till her knees hit the edge of the mattress.

Clio pressed hard against Kassandra’s chest with the flat of both hands, pushed steadily and managed to break the kiss. Kassandra looked down at her, eyes glazed and lust-drunk, expression puzzled.

“No, Kass,” Clio grinned, shaking her head. “You know how I like this,” she laughed. “It’s not been _that_ long after all,” she turned smoothly in Kassandra’s arms, felt her groan of arousal vibrate against her back.

“It’s all coming back to you now eh?” she chuckled, pushing back against her hips, feeling the warm leather shaft, hard against her back.

“I do seem to recall something like this,” Kassandra managed, chuckling softly, slipping her arms around her to cup her breasts. “Gods you feel good Clio, you feel so good, you smell so good, why don’t we do this all the time?” she bent her head to nip at the soft skin of her neck.

“What? Have sex in Markos’ spare room?” Clio reached back to grab hold of the straps of the harness and pull Kassandra hard against her. She heard her sharp inhalation at the bite of the leather against Selene’s stitches.

“Have sex, full stop,” Kassandra felt Clio’s head bow, her ass press hard against her.

She reached up and knotted her fingers in the loose waves of Clio’s hair, pushed her forward over the bed, holding her there.

“Because we tried being together all the time, and we drove each other up the wall, remember? You have a wandering eye and we’re neither of us built to settle down,” Clio pushed back against her, hard.

“And now is definitely not the time for the girlfriend conversation, or any conversation really. Unless you’re trying to get me to beg? Saucy misthios,” she looked back over her shoulder as well as she could with Kassandra gripping the back of her head.

“That might be nice,” she took a half step back and slapped the generous curve of Clio’s ass, before sliding her hand down and allowing her fingers to roam between her thighs, dip into the slick warmth of her cunt, tease around her swollen clit.

“Aw, fuck’s sake, Kass,” Clio shuddered, clutching the sheets and biting her lip. “Okay, okay, please, please Kass, please don’t stand there like a big useless ox, let’s see if you can still make me scream your name.”

“Gods, almost poetic,” Kassandra laughed. “No wonder your reputation precedes you.”

“Really though Kass,” Clio’s voice was serious suddenly. “Don’t make me wait any longer, please. It’s been too long and I need you so badly, let me feel you inside me, please, Kass? Please?”

Desire flared in Kassandra’s belly, burned through any control she had left. She reached down, ran the flat of her hand firm and fast, back and forth along the length of Clio’s swollen sex. She was certainly wet, probably wet and ready enough, but she had seen that Clio had placed the bottle of oil beside the bed.

As she withdrew, Clio grumbled in frustrated protest till she realised what she was doing.

“Ever considerate,” she groaned, watching hungrily as Kassandra poured a little oil into her palm and began to stroke long and slow, anointing the whole length of the glossy leather.

“A little more, please?” she smiled.

Kassandra looked up, questioning.

“It’s not that we’ll need it,” Clio laughed, licking her lips. “Just that this is the sexiest thing I think I’ve ever seen. This week, certainly.”

Kassandra grinned wolfishly and gave a few more theatrical leisurely strokes, her eyes locked on Clio’s. She saw the amusement fade and hunger rush in to take its place.

“Enough playing now, Kass,” Clio breathed.

Kassandra stepped back behind her and bent her forward. She firmly knotted her fingers in the roots of her hair and taking the slick leather in her other hand slid into Clio’s all too ready cunt, slow, smooth, unrelenting.

Deep inside her she paused, gave her time to adjust to the solid fullness, heard her quietly muttered expletives, saw her fingers working at the sheets.

“Please Kass,” Clio whispered, head bowed against the mattress, voice soft and pleading. “Don’t make me wait now.”

It was all the permission Kassandra needed.

She drew back and thrust slow and steady at first, again and again and again, harder and quicker with every stroke, until the room was filled with the wet sounds of their fucking, Clio’s breathy but robust encouragement, Kassandra’s ragged gasps of pleasure as she angled her hips so the base hit her just right.

Hips tensing, knees shaking, pulse pounding in her ears she looked down, groaning at the sight of the glossy leather shaft sliding in and out of Clio, glistening with her wetness.

Clio was thrusting back against her now, hard enough that Kassandra had to brace her feet a little to keep her balance, had to hold on tighter to her hip with one hand to try and control the rhythm.

She saw Clio slip a hand under herself, knew how close she must be, recognised the tremulous break in her voice that halted the incantatory repetition of Kassandra’s name.

She slipped her own hand down behind the tight leather of the harness, struggled a little but managed to reach the peak of her aching clitoris. Rubbing in time with Clio’s thrusts she soon felt them both stuttering out of rhythm, their whimpering breaths echoing each other as Clio’s hips bucked hard and she cried out brokenly to Aphrodite, provoking a quiet meep of curiosity from the corner of the room.  

Kassandra’s vision whitened, the dam of tension broke within her and with a final sobbing cry of Clio’s name she slumped, spent and shaking on top of her, feeling the cooling sweat of Clio’s back against her cheek.

Left to her own devices, drugged with post orgasmic languor Kassandra might well have fallen asleep. But a sharp slap against her hip roused her.

“Nine times out of ten, Kass, it’s nothing short of delightful to be crushed beneath you,” Clio hissed. “But right now, honestly, I can see Charon punting closer and I’ve no drachmae on me.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Kassandra laughed, rousing herself and rolling off Clio’s body. After a few moments to regain her breath Clio got to her feet, laughing and combing her messy hair back from her face.

“Excellent job, Misthios,” she bent and kissed her. “You are forgiven. Move up now, eh? Let's get into bed, I’m feeling chilly.”

Kassandra obligingly, if a little wearily, got up and pulled back the covers for Clio before removing and cleaning the strap-on.

“Would you like me to put this back in your bag?” she dried it off as Clio smiled sleepily at her.

“Packing for me,” she winked playfully. “You really _are_ the full service misthios aren’t you?”

“For my favourite clients, yes I am,” Kassandra grinned sliding into bed beside her.

Clio gave a contented groan and snuggled eagerly into her embrace.

“Honestly Kass,” she rested her head on her chest. “I really miss having you in bed on cold nights. I had to buy a new blanket when you moved out. Though on hot nights, not so much,” she teased.

Kassandra laughed softly and pressed a kiss to the crown of her head. Truth be told it felt wonderful to drift off into sleep with Clio’s warm body in her arms, her familiar scent surrounding her.

 

She’d honestly expected to be roused from sleep by the General’s exultant greeting of the rising sun, but it was Clio who shook her awake.

Kassandra blinked blearily, surprised at how bright the room was.

“We slept through your chicken alarm,” Clio was already dressed, her bag packed. “If it hadn’t been for Aphrodite demanding to go outside to pee I’d still be in bed.”

“What are you talking about?” Kassandra struggled up, confused, messy hair in her eyes. “Aphrodite?”

“The cat, remember?” Clio picked up the basket and put it on the bed.

“Oh shit, yes,” it all came back to her now.

The shifty little intruder, the tumble through the shed roof, sex with Clio. A lazy grin replaced her look of bemusement.

“Yes, I know _that_ look,” Clio laughed stepping back from the bed, out of arm’s reach. “I don’t know what time it is but it’s late, and I don’t know what time the boat docks, but pray Poseidon it’s not early, and no, we don’t have time for another round, and I’m as sad about that as you are.”

She whipped the sheets back and cast an appreciative eye over Kassandra’s supine form.

“And now I’m even sadder,” she shook her head. “Right, I’m going to make you some breakfast,” she said with bright determination. “And then I’m heading back, it’s already going to be busier in town than we planned, I’ll go back via the dock path, people will think I’ve been running errands early. Bring the cat down when you come. And you’ve a roof to fix, remember.”  

Clio could be annoyingly brisk and business-like when she set her mind to it Kassandra thought later as she strode into the kitchen with the basket in her arms.

Its occupant was grumbling incessantly under its breath, probably hungry, she supposed, but as far as she remembered Markos didn’t have anything available that would serve as cat food. It would have to hold its water till she returned it to its shifty little master.

She drank a couple of cups of water as she heard Clio and the chickens deep in conversation outside. The chickens sounded upset and annoyed, Clio calm and conciliatory. Kassandra suspected that eggs would be in short supply this morning given her abrupt and uninvited nocturnal visit.

She was a little surprised that the rooster wasn’t blaming Clio for it all right now actually. Presumably he was saving his wrath for Kassandra. It was going to be a challenge fixing that roof with him about. Perhaps she should just brazen it out, she decided. It wasn’t likely she’d be able to repair it before Markos returned. She should just wait until Phoibe was here to wrangle the General, maybe?

She sat down at the table, wincing a little, her ass was protesting about the previous night’s activities and she suspected there were a few nascent bruises on her back from the awkward fall. She cast a sour look at the cat. It was licking its ass, glowering defiantly over its leg at her.

“Yeah, you and that little weasel deserve each other,” Kassandra began. “I’ll be glad to see the back of you, cat.”

She rubbed her face wearily. They really hadn’t got much sleep last night, when all was said and done. How on earth was Clio so bright? She closed her eyes and let her head loll back on her shoulders.

Kassandra sensed rather than heard Clio’s entrance. She was being uncharacteristically quiet.

“Don’t worry if there are no eggs,” she reassured her, eyes still closed. “That serves me right for scaring the wits out of them in the night I suppose. Not that I’m convinced they have a lot of wits to begin with. Though Phoibe’s always trying to tell me they’re smart. Anyway I’m pretty sure there’ll be some bread and cheese kicking about in the pantry, we can have that. I’ll get something….” she tailed off. Clio really was being extraordinarily quiet.

She opened her eyes and raised her head to see what was wrong. Clio was standing in the doorway, a strange expression on her face. Kassandra couldn’t quite identify it. There was something apologetic and anxious there.

“What’s the matter, Clio?” she frowned, concerned. “Is something wrong, love?”

“Kass...I’m so sorry,” she slowly removed her hand from behind her back.

Dangling from it, feathers bright but body limp and crooked was the General. She had him by the feet and his head was swinging disconcertingly freely.

Kassandra felt wide awake suddenly.

“I guess you,” Clio came and laid the dead bird on the table. “Well...I guess you...fell on him. I imagine it was quick...ish, probably.”

“Oh shit!” Kassandra breathed.

She’d promised Phoibe that nothing would happen to the chickens on her watch and then she’d fallen through the roof right on top of her rooster.

“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit,” she let her head fall forward onto the table.

“There, there,” Clio patted her back. “It was an honest accident, Kass.”

“What am I going to tell Phoibe?” Kassandra mumbled into the table.

“Well you’re going to tell her exactly what happened,” Clio said thoughtfully, then stopped. “Well apart from the whole subplot about me being here and what we were up to, because honestly, that’s not lying to her really, it had nothing to do with you falling on the rooster. She’ll understand that it was an accident.”

“I promised her that I would protect her chickens,” Kassandra was still addressing the table. “And I wrecked the henhouse and killed her fucking rooster.”

“Accidentally,” Clio crouched down beside her. “She loves you, she knows you always mean well. Phoibe’s not going to blame you for an accident. I mean I suppose she’s going to be sad about the rooster, no? If she was fond of him. Though, given the stories, Aphrodite only knows...no, not you cat,” she shook her head as the cat meeped curiously at the sound of its name. “Only knows how anyone could be fond of him.”

She took one of Kassandra’s hands in hers and rubbed across her calloused knuckles with a soft thumb.

“Kass, do you want me to stay and help you tell Phoibe?” she ventured.

“No, no, gods no,” Kassandra sat up. “Markos is already going to be furious about it all. Phoibe’s going to be sad about the bloody chicken. I don’t need Selene on my back as well,” she heaved a huge sigh and then glanced at Clio’s sympathetic expression.

“What? No sly innuendo about having Selene on my back?” she cocked an eyebrow and managed a weak smile.

“No, I’m being comforting,” Clio got to her feet and put an arm around Kassandra’s shoulders, pulling her into a half hug and letting her rest her head against her breast. “I’d also like you to acknowledge that there’s a cockerel and a cat on the table and I haven’t even mentioned it, much less made a joke.”

“You’re mentioning it now,” Kassandra pointed out.

“I’m only mentioning it now to mention that I didn’t mention it earlier,” Clio pursed her lips.

They both looked at the slightly crumpled chicken for a minute.

“That’s a big… … rooster,” Clio said finally, voice dry.

“Don’t even, Clio,” Kassandra warned.

“Well Kass, I hate to love you and leave you, especially given the circumstances,” she sighed. “But I’d better not be here when Markos arrives. You’ll be okay, really,” she bent and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to Kassandra’s lips, making no attempt to deepen it, instead drawing back a little and resting their foreheads together. “When Phoibe’s got over it a bit we can get her another rooster, no? We can go and choose one together, from….wherever you get roosters from? I’ll ask Europa. You can try and pick one that doesn’t hate you.”

“Thank you Clio,” Kassandra gave her ass a light slap. “That’s a comforting thought,” she smiled wryly.

“You know,” Clio had picked up her bag and was at the door now. “I reckon he saw you as a rival, hence all the animosity. It was flattering in a way, no?” she winked.

“Clio, I don’t think I can deal with any more of your comfort,” Kassandra laughed. “I’ll see you later. And despite it all,” she nodded at the grim still life on the table. “Last night was great.”

“And yet here you are sending me on my way without so much as a stale crust,” Clio clasped a theatrical hand to her breast. “Treat them mean, is that it? Give Phoibe my love,” she stepped into the yard then darted her head back inside. “No, wait, don’t! I was never here, remember,” she hissed.

When she’d left, Kassandra surveyed the table with a weary eye. The cat was reaching a hopeful paw through a gap in the basket, inching toward the General’s foot.

“No you don’t, cat,” she got to her feet and grasped the dead rooster by the legs. Damn, he _was_ heavy actually. She caught her thumb on one of his spurs and examined it more closely.

“No wonder you did a number on me,” she frowned. What, should she do with him? She could hardly leave him out there on the table for Phoibe to find.

In the pantry she found a wide wicker basket that Markos used to keep fresh greens, it was empty now and about the right size for the rooster. She laid him in it, covered him with a cloth and placed the whole thing on the bench near the pantry door.

There was a half loaf and some cheese there, a bowl of fresh figs, but Kassandra found that she was no longer hungry. She should show willing and make a start on the henhouse roof she decided, at least now she wouldn’t have to battle an over-protective rooster to do it.

She was able to find some suitable wood in the stable and lucky enough to find a pail of nails and a hammer nearby. These in hand she climbed back onto the roof, all caution, and surveyed the scene. In the light of day it actually didn’t look as bad as she’d expected.

Clearly she’d been unlucky enough to stand on a weak spot. She’d tumbled through feet first, so the hole wasn’t as big as she’d anticipated, though it did occur to her that she’d been fortunate not to break an ankle.

Perhaps the General had cushioned her fall she thought, half smiling. The smile died a grim death when she remembered that she was going to have to tell Phoibe what had happened before too long.

She had just finished the repair when she heard the low rumble of the approaching cart.

Any satisfaction she might have been feeling at a job well done, immediately curled up and died. She hadn’t even worked out how she was going to broach the subject. Should she edge around it for a little while, try and break it gently, or plunge right in and get it over with?

“Kassandra!” Zanita strode across the yard, the chicken crate in her arms, Phoibe skipping along beside her. “You’re always full of surprises. There you go youngster, I wish you joy of your new chickens,” she ruffled her hair on the way past.

“What are you doing on the roof?” Phoibe ran over, grinning happily, clearly hoping for a hug.

Kassandra swallowed hard and jumped down to crouch before her.

“Hello, little one,” she smiled. “I missed you,” she hadn’t been aware of how true this was until Phoibe threw her arms about her neck and hugged her tightly.

“I missed you too, Kassandra,” she whispered against her neck. “It wasn’t as much fun without you. I mean the chickens were fun but then it was just the chicken lady and Markos doing grown up stuff and….”

“Grown up stuff?!” Kassandra frowned sharply, drawing back a little.

“Yes, you know, going on about their business stuff,” she shrugged. “It would have been interesting if it had been all about _her_ business, I’d have liked to hear about that, but mainly it was Markos rambling on, which is odd now I come to think about it, cos he normally doesn’t tell strangers about his plans. Anyway she was just listening and nodding and going on about how glossy his beard was and what a nice smile he had and how kind his eyes were.”

“Madwoman or liar?” Kassandra arched her eyebrows.

“You decide,” Phoibe grinned. “Anyway, why were you on the roof? I didn’t think it would be strong enough to support you honestly,” she peered up.

“No, no, it wasn’t actually,” Kassandra sighed. Well, no time like the present she decided, taking a deep breath. “Phoibe, I have something to tell you. But first I just want to say how sorry I am. I let you down and..”

“Why is there a bloody cat on the kitchen table?” Markos’ outraged cry interrupted her. “You know how I feel about cats. People eat off this table!”

“Well not _off_ it,” Phoibe rolled her eyes. “Did you get a cat, Kassandra?” she grinned delightedly.

“I didn’t _get_ a cat,” she rubbed the back of her neck awkwardly. “I sort of found a cat but it doesn’t belong to me. You see, this is part of what I wanted to tell you.”

Before she could elaborate further there was a high pitched squeal of horror, quickly followed by a dull thump. Phoibe turned to look in the direction of the kitchen.

Oh shit, thought Kassandra, here we go. Markos couldn’t have waited five more fucking minutes, of course.

“Oh General, my General,” Markos’ cries of distress cut across the yard. “Who would do such a terrible thing to an innocent animal? An innocent animal that was going to make my fortune! Gods smite them! Callous murderers. Look at you, my beautiful boy. Who would ever wish you….Kassandra!” he hissed, fury kicking misery clean out of the driving seat. “Kassandra! Of course it's fucking Kassandra. She hated you!”

He appeared at the door, red faced, the dead rooster swinging from his hand.

“God’s sakes Markos,” Kassandra got to her feet, gesturing in protest from the slightly squashed chicken towards Phoibe.

“How could you Kassandra?” he shook his fist, the fist with the General hanging from it, neck swinging wildly. “How could you be so...cruel...and petty?”

Phoibe was over by him now. She gently took the dead bird from his hand and cradled it in her arms.

Kassandra had certainly felt _as_ miserable before, but never more so, she was sure.

“Phoibe, I’m so sorry,” she began.

“It’s too late for apologies now,” Markos glowered. “How could you? I mean I know you couldn’t care less about me, despite everything I’ve done for you all these years. But how could you do this to poor Phoibe? Have you no…”

“Shut up, right now Markos,” Kassandra warned, voice low. “Or I will slap the beard clean off your face, I swear.”

“Oh that’s right,” he rolled his eyes. “That’s your answer to everything isn’t it? Violence. Poor chicken pecks the mighty misthios a couple of times, she kills him. I raise a reasonable point and you…”

“Be quiet Markos,” Phoibe said quietly, stroking the General’s breast. “You’re being mean. And anyway everyone knows Kassandra can’t kill chickens.”

“Oh yes! Yes! Of course,” he gestured wildly. “How could I forget that? Our mighty misthios is afraid of chickens! Killed a bear, scared of a rooster!”

“I’m not scared of…” Kassandra began to protest. “That’s not why I can’t kill…” she saw Phoibe, quietly looking down at the lifeless rooster.

“Aw Phoibe,” she went over to her, crouched low, forced herself to meet her eyes. “I’m so sorry. I swear, it was a stupid accident. There was a man looking for his cat,” she decided that the tale demanded some major abbreviation. “He was very upset about it and I said I’d help look. It was stuck on the roof and…”

“How the hell can a cat be stuck on a roof? Any roof? But a henhouse roof? It climbed up, it could….”

“Please be quiet Markos,” Phoibe looked over at him. Whatever he saw sufficed to quell him for now. “Go on, Kassandra.”

She could feel herself shrinking by the moment but steeled herself and carried on.

“I went up to get it, and Markos is right of course, I sh….”

“Of course I’m bloody right, going on the...yes, well,” he saw Phoibe’s expression. “Carry on.”

“I should have just left it, but, I wanted to catch it and give it back to him and,” she shrugged miserably and waved a limp hand over at the henhouse.

“You fell through the roof and landed on the General,” Phoibe finished for her.

“You went through my roof?!” Markos yelled. “Through the bloody roof! You great clumsy ox. You’d no business being…”

“Calm down Markos,” Phoibe sighed. “She’s fixed it. Right?” she looked at Kassandra. “That was why you were on the roof?”

“Mmm,” she nodded. “It’s done, better than ever. Phoibe...I made you a promise and then I let you down. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s all right Kassandra,” Phoibe shook her head. “It was an accident. Anyone can have an accident.”

Kassandra’s mortification was complete. The broken ankle would have been infinitely preferable she decided.

“And you found the man’s cat,” Phoibe added. “So he’ll be happy, and the cat will be happy.”

“And we’re ruined, but let’s not worry about _that_ , at least she’s found a lost cat,” Markos muttered.

“Oh stop it Markos,” Phoibe said quietly. “You’ve made your point. Kassandra’s sorry, you don’t need to go on about it. You should go give the man back his cat,” she smiled, “he must be worried, and the cat’s probably upset.”

“It better not be upset on my kitchen table,” Markos muttered sourly as Kassandra stalked past him into the kitchen. “Filthy creature.”

“That’s rich, coming from a man who had a dirty sandal in his kitchen cupboard,” Kassandra snapped.

“I beg your pardon!” he braced his hands in the general area of his hips. “That was in there to remind me to get it repaired. And what were you doing anyway, ferreting around in my cupboards?”

Kassandra was glad she was out of sight so neither of them could see her trying to think on her feet.

“I was... I was looking for something to eat,” she said with, what she hoped was, an air of confidence, as she strode out with the basket in her arms.

“Really?” Markos raised his eyebrows. “Did you find anything? Because there was a chicken right there!” he flung out a dramatic arm in the General’s direction.

Phoibe sighed heavily and placed the bird’s legs in his outstretched hand. She followed Kassandra all the way to the gate before placing a gentle hand on her elbow.

“It’s all right Kassandra,” she smiled. “It could have happened to anyone.”

Kassandra wasn’t sure that this was entirely accurate, but she looked down at Phoibe. She was unexpectedly dry eyed and had even mustered a comforting smile.

“I know, little one,” she sighed. “But I’m sorry all the same. About your chicken _and_ your eggs.”

“Don’t worry Kassandra, it’s all right,” Phoibe patted her arm. “We can get a new rooster in a bit, they’re not hard to come by.”

She was being remarkably sanguine about the whole thing Kassandra reflected as she set off towards Sami. She’d have much preferred it had she yelled and wept a bit if she was honest. Phoibe’s comforting had only made her feel worse.

“Fine fucking misthios you are,” she muttered under her breath, kicking up dust as she strode along the path.

She’d hunted wolves, fought bandits, she’d killed a fucking bear for the love of Artemis! And a big one too! Then, when it counted, she couldn’t even protect a child’s pet.

As if it could read her mind the cat mewled reproachfully.

“And you can shut the fuck up as well,” she glowered at it resentfully. “If it hadn’t been for you I wouldn’t have been on top of the bloody henhouse in the first place.”

The cat gave an insolent sounding hiss. It had entirely too much to say for itself, and she was becoming less and less concerned with its welfare with every stride.

Her affection for it didn’t increase any with her trip to the tavern. If Oicles was a visitor, this was the only place he could be staying.

“Gordias!” she greeted the landlord as she put the basket down on the counter with a good deal more vigour than was really appropriate. “Do you have someone staying who…”

Gordias was peering through the gap in the lid, his grin broadening rapidly until it broke into full throated laughter.

“Our mighty misthios has caught herself a pussy!” he gasped, wiping his eyes.

Kassandra could hear giggling from the regulars sitting behind her.

“Not the first time eh, Kassandra?” came a raucous call from the furthest, dimmest corner. She resisted the impulse to spin round and launch the bloody cat right at its source.

“I just wanted to know if…” she swallowed her pride and tried again.

Gordias had stopped laughing, though his face was a bit red. It might be no more than he deserved if he dropped dead of apoplexy, she thought rather mean-spiritedly. He was peering intently through the lid now, and frowning.

“It’s that arsehole’s cat!” he looked up, considerably less amused suddenly. “Who brings a bloody cat for two days in a tavern? I ask you?!”

“Be good enough to summon the arsehole in question, then I can reunite them,” Kassandra was relieved at the prospect of parting company with it.

“I wish I could, Kassandra,” Gordias shrugged. “I really do. But he buggered off earlier, without a word. Took the ship Markos came in on.”

“Shit!” Kassandra kicked the counter. “To Ithaka then?”

“Who knows?” Gordias spread his hands. “That’s just the first stop. They drop off there and then sail on.”

He registered Kassandra’s uncharacteristically downcast expression and poured her a cup of wine.

“On me,” he pushed it over the counter towards her.. “He was a funny bugger though, I’ll tell you that. He’s been once before. Never said much. Out at funny hours. Then the rest of the time in his room with the cat. Bonny cat though isn’t it?”

“Do you want it?” Kassandra asked, hopefully.

“They make my eyes run something terrible,” Gordias put up his hands. “You know, he was kicking up stink about it being missing. Accused one of the girls of leaving his door open. The girls wouldn’t even go near his room till he left, they thought he was weird. Then after all that, he just buggers off without it, never says a word.”

“He didn’t say where to send it to then?” Kassandra had a notion that she already knew the answer to this question.

“Did he buggery,” Gordias refilled her cup. “He didn’t even tell us he was going. Sophitia saw him getting on board. We went upstairs. Room’s empty. Cat hair all over the bedding.”

“Looks like you’re going to have to settle down with this one, Kassandra,” the joker decided to chance his arm again.

Part of Kassandra had been spoiling for a fight for a little while now, and if someone was going to actively volunteer, then so much the better.

Gordias recognised the signs and placed a careful hand on her forearm.

“Just drink your wine, Kassandra,” he pleaded. “He’s another arsehole, everyone knows it. I’m not saying he doesn’t deserve that grin smacking off his face, but I don’t want the place messing up. Please?”

Kassandra sighed, emptied her cup and picked up the basket. Its occupant gave a startled little meep.

“Well, it looks like you’ve got yourself a cat,” Gordias smiled, relieved. “Young Phoibe will like it, no?”

She had no idea whether Phoibe would like it or not, she thought. She’d certainly expressed no interest one way or another that morning.

But Kassandra had a good idea who _would_ like it!

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again thanks are due to my indomitable beta-reader fishbone76, without whom there'd be a donkey-load more appalling punctuation.

“Oh! Look at the pussycat!” Europa exclaimed, opening the basket and sweeping the huge cat up into her arms. It had the audacity to snuggle down and start purring like a beehive.

Kassandra added it to the list of animals that didn’t like her for no good reason.

“Oh Selene, may we keep her? Please?” Europa was clearly already in love. And it seemed to be mutual. The cat was rumbling ecstatically and rubbing its head against her breasts. Perhaps it wasn’t completely stupid, Kassandra thought.

“Will it catch spiders?” Clio leaned back in her chair. “If so we should definitely give it house room.”

“It’ll catch rats...and mice, I imagine,” Kassandra found herself wanting to sell the deal. Selene was looking, at best, non-committal.

“And she’s called Aphrodite!” Europa had found the collar. “It’s so appropriate! Perhaps it’s a sign? We have to keep her, Selene. Please?”

Recognizing a losing battle when she saw one Selene reached out and scratched behind the cat’s ears. As if understanding what was at stake it purred enthusiastically and rubbed against her hand.

“Very well,” she shook her head, resigned. “But you look after it. And you need to rename it. It can’t be Aphrodite. The number of times that gets shouted in here of a night, the poor thing won’t know if it’s coming or going.”

“I’m going to take her upstairs,” Europa rubbed her nose against the cat’s head. “Show her where she’ll be sleeping.”

“I think that cat already knows its way round a bedroom to be honest,” Clio smiled as Kassandra took a seat opposite her, next to Selene.

“I wonder if she’s hungry?” Europa frowned. “Do we have any fish, or perhaps a bit of chick...oh” she stopped, hand to mouth. ”I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking. I’m sorry about Phoibe’s rooster. Is she very upset ?”

“She was surprisingly calm about it all,” Kassandra picked at the tabletop with her thumbnail. “Didn’t cry, or shout, or call me stupid, or fly off in a sulk. Just said it was an accident and it could have happened to anyone.”

“Well it was,” Europa soothed. “I mean we all know you couldn’t kill a chick...I mean you wouldn’t kill Phoibe’s chicken on purpose. Of course not.”

“But you’d rather she _had_ yelled at you?” Selene put a comforting hand over Kassandra’s, possibly to stop her picking at the table. “That would have made you feel better I suppose?”

“I guess so,” she mumbled. “I just feel like I let her down. I promised I’d look after her chickens and then I….fell on one…”

“Kassandra,” Clio leaned forward, smiling reassuringly. “I knew she’d understand. She loves you and she knows you’d never hurt her on purpose. Shit happens Kass. And poor Phoibe knows that better than most people.”

“I know,” Kassandra leaned back, sighing. “I just never wanted to be the one to make more shit happen for her.”

“All will be well,” Selene rubbed her hand soothingly. “She’ll be sad for a little while and then you can get her another rooster, people are generally trying to get rid of them in my experience.”

“Oh yes,” Europa nodded. “There are always surplus roosters, if you can get to them before the butcher does. Perhaps the next one will be nicer.”

“I don’t think niceness is a quality that roosters are well known for actually,” Clio pretended deep consideration for a moment.

Europa had taken her new roommate upstairs and Kassandra was just considering going down to the dock to get some fish for her when they heard Phoibe’s surprisingly bright voice from the main room.

“In here, my love,” Selene called, “come and join us.”

Moments later she ambled in, a small package tightly tied with string, in her hands.

“Hello little one,” Clio slid an arm about her as she passed and pulled her onto her knee, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “We were all sorry to hear about the General. How are you feeling?”

“It was an accident,” Phoibe shrugged. “Kassandra has apologised. There’s no point going on about it now. Markos is going on about it enough for everyone.”

“Well you are far more mature than Markos,” Selene smiled, “but then we’ve known that for a long while.”

“He’s not upset about the General _really_ though, that’s the thing,” Phoibe leaned back in Clio’s arms. “He’s just mad that he’s out of pocket over the Ithaka chickens. But they’ll still lay eggs. We can get another rooster. It will work out in the end. He’s so dramatic sometimes,” she shook her head.

Selene swallowed a laugh and nodded at the slightly greasy package in her hands.

“What do you have there?”

“Oh, yes, right, that’s for you Kassandra,” Phoibe pushed it over the table towards her. “He’s making such a performance about it all,” she continued as Kassandra began to fumble with the tangled knot of the string. “We had to give him a proper send off, he said, so he made a little...funeral pyre thing, I suppose.”

Selene frowned. Given what had happened to Phoibe’s parents she considered that the height of insensitivity.

“He’s full of surprises,” she said tightly, but Phoibe was continuing brightly enough.

“I think he was just sad that you weren’t there too Kassandra, then he could have tried to make you feel a bit worse,” she watched as Kassandra admitted defeat and pulled the knife from her boot to slice through the string. "All the same, I suppose he was right, there was no sense in letting him go to waste, he was dead already,” she carried on.

“But to be honest with you,” she shrugged as the package fell open. “He was more of a stewing bird than a roaster.”

Kassandra looked down dismally at the stringy looking leg and thigh sitting before her.

“I’m sorry he’s cold,” Phoibe explained. “But...well...honestly he was still tough when he was warm. That’s why I didn’t bring more for everyone, plus Markos ate a lot of him. He’s going to have such bad indigestion later.”

Kassandra looked up, clearly a little taken aback.

“Tuck in,” Clio smirked. “Before it gets cold...colder.”

“I...well,” she looked down at it. It was the driest, stringiest looking piece of meat that she’d seen in quite some time. “Thank you, Phoibe.”

“I brought that for you,” Phoibe nodded, “because this one time I was chatting with this whaler at the dock and he told me that he’d met some warriors someplace who eat bits of their enemies, to get their skills or something. Like if they were really strong they’d eat their arms, or if they were really brave they’d eat their heart, if they were really clever they...well you get the idea. And the General was your mortal enemy, and you _did_ defeat him, even if it was by accident.”

“Still counts,” Clio nodded, obligingly. “Is this some veiled criticism of Kass’ legs though, little one?” she tilted her head at Phoibe. “Because I _will_ come to her defense.”

“No, no, Kassandra’s legs are great,” Phoibe shook her head, missing Clio’s smirk. “But the General was always having a go at you with his spurs, no?”

“Mmm,” Kassandra looked at Phoibe’s hopeful expression and took a bite. Maybe if she thought about it as jerky? After a few moments resolute chewing, every drop of saliva in her mouth had disappeared.

Selene took pity on her and poured a cup of watered wine.

“Perhaps a little moisture will help?”

“Yeah, he’s tough as an old boot, isn’t he?” Phoibe sighed. “He needed a few hours in a pot over a low fire, but you can’t tell Markos anything sometimes.”

Kassandra continued chewing, determined to have the final victory over the damn bird if it killed her. Selene refilled her cup.

“I suppose it’s appropriate though,” Phoibe said, thoughtfully. “I mean he was a warrior in his own way. He was only trying to protect his ladies, and find food for them and...well, other things with them, obviously.”

“See, Kass,” Clio pointed out, amused. “You two had more in common than you thought.”

She received a warning glance from both Kassandra and Selene.

“I guess he’s tough, because he _was_ tough,” Phoibe considered. “I wonder if that means that you’d be tough if anyone tried to eat you, Kassandra?”

Selene cleared her throat a little more dramatically than she’d intended and looked at Clio. For once though she looked sympathetic rather than mischievous.

“I don’t know, Phoibe,” she kissed the crown of her head. “I suspect your sister might be more tender than people suspect, you know.”

  


Kassandra was in no hurry to see Markos again, after his performance, and stayed away for a couple of days, but eventually Phoibe persuaded her to make the first move.

“You need to bury the hatchet sometime and the longer you wait the more awkward it will be,” she pointed out. “Be the bigger man, woman, person, be bigger than Markos. Well you _are_ bigger than Markos, but you know what I mean.”

As they ambled along to his place Kassandra nursed a deeply satisfying daydream featuring Markos and a hatchet. It kept her going right up to his kitchen which they found empty. There was a note on the table in his illegible scrawl. Even after so many years with him Kassandra could barely make out one word in three. The first word, however, was clearly “Phoibe”.

“It’s for you,” she handed it over.

Phoibe sniffed and took it over to the window where the light was better.

“Phoibe,” she read, squinting hard. “Gone to Sami because _she_ wasn’t hear again and I have errands to run,” she looked up, “ _She_ is underlined, I suppose that means you, and he’s used the wrong “here”. Nevermind,” she held it up again. “There’s pancake, I think he means _pancakes_ , unless there is only one of course, pancake and ...what’s that? Figs? I think. There’s not two g’s in figs though. He never re-reads anything.”

Markos’ place was as comfortable as anywhere when he wasn’t occupying it, Kassandra reasoned taking a seat.

“Well he’s not left me any jobs to do,” Phoibe grinned taking a seat opposite her. “And you promised to show me how to repair my arrows the other day? There’s some in the pantry with your old bow?” she raised her eyebrows optimistically.

“Go get them,” Kassandra laughed, pouring water for them both.

They were engrossed in their fletching lesson when Markos burst in, red faced and furious.

“I’m ruined! Ruined!” he flopped down next to Phoibe, not even acknowledging Kassandra, and snatched the towel from the back of her chair to mop his sweating face.

“Eew Markos,” Phoibe grimaced. ”I use that to dry the dishes with.”

“Let them air dry,” Kassandra advised quietly as she cut some lengths of cord. “Ruination is a regular occurrence for you Markos, what’s responsible this time?”

“That fucking chicken woman!” he snapped, throwing the towel on the floor beside him.

“Language Markos!” Kassandra frowned, nodding in Phoibe’s direction as she bent to pick it up.

“Sorry, sorry,” he held up his hands. “That damned chicken woman.” he scowled darkly.

“Which chicken woman?” Phoibe had decided against re-using the towel and tossed it onto the bench to wash later.

“Which fuck..blo..damn chicken woman do you think?” he snapped. “How many chicken women do you know?”

“That’ll do Markos,” Kassandra said quietly, putting down her knife with a meaningful click. “Whatever’s happened isn’t going to be as bad as you think, and whatever it is, do not take it out on Phoibe.”

“You’re just upset, obviously,” Phoibe patted his hand and Kassandra rolled her eyes, resigned. “Let me get you a nice drink of wine, get your breath back and tell us all about it. Whatever it is, I’m sure Kassandra can sort things out for you.”

It was just as well Phoibe had her back to the table as she poured wine for Markos because Kassandra made no attempt to control her expression. Phoibe for her part made no attempt to water the wine.

“There you go,” she handed him the cup and after a moment’s thought put the jug on the table. “Do you mean the Ithaka chicken woman?” she asked when he’d drained the first cup and sat getting his breath back.

“Of course I mean the bloody Ithaka chicken woman,” he snapped, holding out his cup for a refill. “Lying, cheating, thieving whore of a Lamia.”

“What did I just say?” Kassandra’s brows were dangerously low by now.

“I thought Lamia were snake women? Not chicken women? What has she done, anyway?” Phoibe interrupted smoothly. “The chickens are very well. They’ve settled in great. In fact we got some eggs this morning, but the odd thing is…”

“She’s been stealing bloody chickens then selling them back to people,” Markos sighed. “There’s nothing special about the damn things.”

“What?” Kassandra looked up, curious. “Where’s she been stealing chickens from then?”

“People who _have_ chickens I suppose,” he replied with heavy sarcasm.

“Not anymore though,” Kassandra smirked.

“Very funny,” he drained his cup. “I paid five times what those chickens were worth. I’m up to my balls in chicken debt and you’re laughing about it.”

Phoibe held up a warning hand in Kassandra’s direction as soon as she saw her mouth open.

“Don’t Kassandra, let me just imagine that you said something witty.”

“So, explain then,” Kassandra put aside the arrow she’d been working on and folded her arms. “What happened exactly?”

“It was all a scam!” Markos threw out his hands. “A scam! Can you believe it?”

“Scarcely!” said Phoibe dryly, exchanging a look with Kassandra.

“I know right?” he raised his bushy eyebrows, clearly affronted by the very idea. “Taking advantage of honest, hard-working businessmen. This sort of thing is why legitimate entrepreneurs are met with mistrust, people like her. Sashaying into the tavern, dripping with jewelry, waving her tits in my face.”

“Waving?” Kassandra arched an eyebrow, amused.

Waving, swinging, shoving, whatever it is you do with them,” he muttered. “Not that you would know, obviously,” he gave a curt nod in the direction of Kassandra’s chest.

“Ey!” Phoibe had been refilling his cup and she slammed it down now with a good deal more force than was required. “You can be very mean-spirited sometimes Markos,” she said crisply.

Kassandra was smiling placidly all the same.

“Admittedly they aren’t as big as yours Markos, but no-one’s complained so far.”

“Highly amusing,” he gave her a sour look and took another mouthful of wine. “She saw me coming a mile off. Magic bloody chickens.”

“In fairness I don’t think she ever said they were magic,” Phoibe pointed out. “Just that they were good layers. And they _are_ laying, as I was about to say before, they....”

“You’ve no idea what she said to me while we were in the tavern,” he spat. “And no, I think it was _you_ who used the word magical.”

“Don’t even think about going there, Markos,” Kassandra warned. “Soldier up. You got fleeced. She offered you some chickens, told you the price, you paid it, you got your chickens.”

“Just out of curiosity,” Phoibe interrupted before he could get started. “ _Who_ was stealing the chickens?”

“I just told you, Phoibe,” he sighed wearily. “That scheming bitch on Ithaka.”

“I don’t think so,” she plucked a sprig of mint from the bowl on the table and chewed thoughtfully. “She really didn’t look the type to be creeping around folk’s hen houses in the dead of night. I mean if someone told you Kassandra was a chicken thief,” she held up a swift appeasing hand in her direction.

“No offence Kassandra, I know you wouldn’t steal chickens, obviously,” Markos had opened his mouth, about to say something but she didn’t give him the chance. “But you wouldn’t think she _couldn’t_ do it if she had to. I mean she looks like she could take out the guard dog and carry off the whole henhouse if she wanted. But Ithaka lady...not so much.”

“Oh, yes, I see,” Markos nodded as Kassandra began to trim the end of an arrow shaft. “No, she wasn’t doing the creeping about, that was her weaselly little nephew, funny name, Oily something.”

“Ow, fuck!” Kassandra nicked her thumb and looked up sharply. “Sorry, Phoibe,” she said automatically, sucking at the blood. “Oily?”

“Hmm, something like that, Oily by name and oily by nature,” he grumbled. “Gods even know what _her_ name really is. I bet she has a different name in every town she fleeces. Not like me,” he held out his arms. “Wherever I go people know the name Markos and what it stands for!”

“Indeed they do,” Phoibe nodded dryly, picking more mint.

“Well at least he won’t be doing it anymore,” Markos chuckled. “Not after the guards ran him through, shifty little fu...fool, good luck stealing chickens in Tartarus.”

“Ah, fuck!” Kassandra nicked the same thumb in almost the same place. “Sorry, Phoibe,” she muttered putting the knife down just to be safe.

“After a while apologies are just words you know, Kassandra,” she raised her eyebrows. “The guards killed him?” she turned to Markos.

“Hmm, he made a run for it,” he took some mint. “Idiot...though I mean they’d have killed him anyway so I suppose he got a bit of last minute exercise in.”

“And...chicken woman?” Kassandra asked quietly.

“Who knows,” he shook his head. “She’d run for it before the guards came. Crafty bit..woman. But I never forget a face! Just let her show up on Kephallonia again.”

“And, what?” Phoibe asked wryly. “You’ll set Kassandra on her?”

“Well, it’s what she’s here for, no?” he shrugged. “You don’t keep a dog and bark yourself.”

Phoibe shook her head and began to trim a feather.

“Where were they stealing these chickens from?” Kassandra frowned, casting her mind back a little.

“Didn’t you already ask me that?”

“Yes, but you didn’t answer,” she pointed out, reasonably enough.

“Here mainly,” he poured more wine. “Some from Ithaka, but you don’t shit where you eat after all.”

“Pity you never learned that lesson yourself,” Kassandra pointed out quietly. “They didn’t take any of _your_ birds. So they were stealing Widow Agape’s hens?”

“I assume so,” he shrugged. “She didn’t have the good sense to have a misthios about the place.”

“She can’t afford a bloody misthios,” Kassandra snapped.

“Well, as you’re the bloody misthios in question,” he snapped back, “maybe you should direct your ire inwards.”

“I can’t guard _everyone’s_ property for nothing, Markos,” she said defensively, feeling unreasonably chastened all the same.

“If that’s what you have to tell yourself to sleep at night,” he was smirking, but Phoibe wiped it from his face.

“We have to give those chickens back,” she said firmly.

“Excuse _you_!” Markos reared back. “What on earth are you talking about Phoibe?! Those chickens are paid for fair and square. Well not fair because I paid through the nose, but I paid.”

“ _I_ paid for one of those chickens,” Phoibe replied quietly. “So I’m giving her mine back at least.”

“Don’t be ridiculous Phoibe,” he seemed genuinely bewildered. “You paid for the chicken. You didn’t know it was stolen.”

“I didn’t know it was stolen from an old lady who depends on them for a living, no,” Phoibe said quietly.

“You’re giving her back _all_ the chickens, Markos,” Kassandra said simply.

“I am not!” he protested. “The very idea. Do you know how much I paid for those birds.”

“No,” Kassandra shook her head and pushed back her chair with a scrape. “But Phoibe will tell me if I ask. To be honest though, I don’t care how much you paid. They were stolen from an old lady who’s too poor to defend herself. Phoibe, help me collect the birds will you?”

Phoibe was on her feet immediately but Markos caught hold of her arm.

“Whoa, whoa, just think about this for a minute,” he adopted a wheedling tone. “How do we even know they’re Agape’s birds. There are other people on the island who keep a few birds.”

“But hers are the only ones that lay brown eggs,” Phoibe pulled her arm from his grasp and strode over to Kassandra. “That was what I was trying to say earlier, but you didn’t let me finish. I went to check when we got here, four had laid and the eggs were brown, I put them to one side, cos they’re really pretty. You know they’re her hens Markos. Don’t be mean.”

“Mean!” he gasped, a little theatrically they both thought. The hand to his chest was oversell, certainly. “How is it _mean_ to want to protect my interest? I paid good money for those.”

“If you don’t want to give her back her birds, then pay her for them,” Kassandra arched an eyebrow.

He stroked his beard, seeming to give this consideration.

“All right, all right, I could pay her what her birds are worth I suppose, but look, I don’t have any ready drachmae on me right now,” he saw them both rolling their eyes wearily. “I’ve a bit of money owed me. You can run into Sami, Kassandra, collect that and take her dues out of it, no?"

“Plus the money she’s lost since her birds were taken,” Kassandra smiled. “She’s lost half a dozen eggs every other day right? Then there’s the emotional stress that she’s been under thanks to the loss of income.”

“And the shock of a thief in the coop probably put the other hens off for a while,” Phoibe looked up at Kassandra who nodded in agreement. “So she’ll have lost quite a few I imagine. And who knows, she might even have got behind on her bills because she didn’t have the cash to..”

“All right, all right!” he held up his hands, “let’s not get hysterical. I know we’re all upset. The shock of the General’s death and the news that there’s been a thief running round all this time...despite Kassandra’s intimidating presence, oddly enough,” he gave her a sour look.

“But let’s all take a deep breath and remain calm eh? Of course Agape should have her birds back, it’s only reasonable, no? Phoibe, put them in the crate we brought them over in eh? You and Kassandra can run them over to her with my best wishes and sympathy for her recent inconvenience.”

“That’s very generous of you Markos,” Phoibe nodded.

“It is? It is! It is isn’t it?” he smiled. “That’s just me though, big hearted Markos. I’m a fool to myself sometimes. Ask anyone. Now, if it’s all the same with you two I’m going to go have a little lie down. All this shock has given me a bit of a headache. I need to relax for a little while.”

It once again occurred to him that in days gone by this would have been pleasantly solved by going round to see Selene for some partnered relaxation, but she’d been true to her bloody word and had never invited him back since their final row about Kassandra.

Kassandra, who was now standing here, smirking, the big, smug ox. She’d been nothing but trouble since the day he’d kindly coaxed her from the waves with the half a loaf, that by all rights should have been his dinner. Truly no good deed went unpunished, he thought miserably. No one knew how he suffered. Halfway to the door he turned back and stalked to the table.

“I’m taking this,” he snatched up the wine jug. “I wish to be undisturbed.”

Rounding up the six chickens in question seemed like an impossible task to Kassandra as she stood in the yard, surrounded by curious hens. On discovering that she had no treats for them they were making do with her boot laces.

“So, Phoibe?” she scratched the back of her neck and gazed at the mass of feathers about her feet. “We’re just picking six decent looking birds at random, right?”

“We absolutely are not,” Phoibe was outraged. “Gods! You’re almost as bad as Markos. He’d just be picking out the old ones.”

“How the hell are we picking out hers?” Kassandra yanked her bootlace out of a particularly hungry beak and got a peck on the knuckles for her trouble. She really didn’t like chickens. ”Do not tell me we’re waiting around to see which ones lay brown eggs? Because, honestly Phoibe, I’d rather just pick six decent birds and slip her a few drachmae.”

“We’re giving her back her own birds, Kassandra,” Phoibe was ruffling the head of a nearby hen. “I know which ones they are. Go get the crate will you, its too heavy for me on my own.”

“All right,” Kassandra shrugged, not entirely convinced. She picked her way between the horde of grumbling birds, trod on her loose bootlace and tripped a few steps. She quickly looked back over her shoulder. Sure enough Phoibe had seen.

“Mind you don’t fall on any more chickens till we’ve got the Widow’s birds to safety eh?” she already had a fat chicken under one arm.

“That is _not_ one of hers!” Kassandra got to a safe distance and retied her lace.

“This one? Yeah. Black spot on her wattle and a little patch of brown feathers just here,” Phoibe tickled the bird’s neck lightly and then peered curiously at its foot.

When Kassandra returned with the crate on one shoulder Phoibe had a second bird under her other arm and was examining its legs. She opened the lid for her to stow the hens inside, quickly closed it again and looked up to watch Phoibe catch another two. She rounded up the last stragglers just as quickly and tied down the lid.

“I’m sorry he’s gone,” she brushed her hands together. “But that was so much easier without the General guarding them. _You_ wouldn’t have got away unscathed, tell you that.”

They stood looking down at the big wicker crate. It was shifting slightly and gentle murmuring came from inside.

“It’s a bit of a trek to her farm,” Kassandra remarked. She really didn’t want to have to carry a crate load of chickens on her shoulder, the day was hot and the path was dusty and, entirely unrelated, all the places she could grip the crate brought her fingers within beak reach.

“Should we use the donkey?” Phoibe suggested hesitantly. “Markos wouldn’t approve.”

“All the more reason we should,” Kassandra grinned. “Go fill a skin with water for us Phoibe and I’ll hitch the cart.”

She put the crate in the shade and went to the donkey pen. Ajax was getting no younger but was affable enough, for a donkey. The cart had certainly seen better days though she thought, hauling it out of the shed. There was nothing in it yet and it was already creaking alarmingly.

“That really needs repairing,” Phoibe shook her head. “No wonder his “door to door donkey cart” scheme fell through. Would you want to ride in that? Actually, I don’t think you’re going to be able to ride in that Kassandra. No offense obviously, but there’s plenty of you...and…” she shook the side of the cart a little. A chunk of rotten wood came away in her hand.

Ajax looked over his shoulder and gave a disgusted snort.

“Poor old Ajax is embarrassed to be seen with it,” she reached up and stroked his velvety ear.

“I’ll walk,” Kassandra had already come to that decision herself before she’d even hitched the cart to the donkey. It was still better than carrying the chicken crate. “It will hold you though, Phoibe, hop up. I’ll put the birds in the back.”

Phoibe displayed an understandable degree of caution clambering into the seat. She wriggled experimentally a few times. There was some creaking but nothing fell off. There was another quiet creak as Kassandra loaded the crate onto the back.

“You take the reins will you Kassandra?” she looked over her shoulder. “I want my hands free, in case I have to get off here in a hurry.”

“Thinking ahead!” she grinned. “Well done Phoibe. Oh wait, just give me a minute. I need to get something from the shed.”

Phoibe turned carefully in her seat to watch as Kassandra ran across to the shed, sending loudly protesting hens scattering in her wake. No wonder they didn’t like her, she shook her head. There was too much of her, being too unexpected all the time.

She watched curiously as Kassandra reappeared with a plump cloth sack over her shoulder. She placed it in the back of the cart. There was a much louder creak this time.

“Is that Markos’ corn?” she ventured as Kassandra took the reins in hand and led Ajax out through the gate.

“It’s some of it,” Kassandra didn’t look round.

In all honesty Phoibe thought, it would have been just as quick to walk, even with Kassandra carrying the crate. Presumably she was tired, or simply unwilling to have six hens on her shoulder. It gave her time to think though, and to look about her.

She didn’t come up to this part of the island very often. It wasn’t dramatically different really, she decided. But it explained why she’d never met Widow Agape though, despite knowing who she was, mainly via Markos grumbling about his “business rival”.

Kassandra seemed to know the way though, she noticed. Probably down to her being the misthios, she’d need to know all parts of the island, all the nooks and crannies and hidden coves.

It occurred to Phoibe that she had no idea really, whereabouts on the island Kassandra had found her parents’ bodies, she’d never told Phoibe and she had never asked. She could remember very little from that night, not with any coherency. Just horrifying flashes.

“Phoibe!” Kassandra’s voice startled her back and she was grateful for it. From her tone it wasn’t the first time she’d called her name.

“Are you all right, little one?” she looked concerned. “Have a little water, the sun’s hot,” she handed her the skin. “We’re here anyway, near enough. Just up this path.”

The Widow’s farm was bigger than Phoibe had expected and much better maintained than Markos’ place. Though that was to damn it with faint praise, she thought. Perhaps the Widow wasn’t as old as Phoibe had imagined. It was possible to become a widow at a young age after all.

She _was_ just as old as Phoibe had imagined as it turned out. But taller, less frail, though her eyesight was clearly a bit weak. She recognised Kassandra quickly enough though, walking across her well swept yard, a little slowly and slightly hunched but evidently delighted to see her.

Phoibe climbed down from the cart and watched curiously as Kassandra bent to give the old woman an expansive hug. When she released her Agape held her for a while at arm’s length.

“Have you grown again, girl?” she laughed.

“Not any taller,” Kassandra grinned good naturedly. “Filled out a bit perhaps.”

“You look well for it,” Agape smiled. “It suits you. You get lovelier every time I see you,” Kassandra was blushing a little now. Phoibe suspected it wasn’t so much the compliments, as the fact that she was here to witness it.

“And who is this?” Agape had turned and was looking hard at Phoibe now with cloudy, grey eyes.

“This? This is Phoibe,” Kassandra held out her hand and beckoned Phoibe over. “My...well ...my little sister in a way,” she didn’t quite avoid Phoibe’s gaze, but couldn’t hold it for long. “Phoibe, this is Agape.”

“I’m very pleased to meet you,” Phoibe nodded politely. “What a lovely farm you have. Such beautiful chickens.”

“And it’s lovely to meet you at last, Phoibe,” the old woman took hold of her hands, her fingers were rough and knotted but her grip was strong. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Yes,” Kassandra shuffled her feet and looked the picture of awkwardness for a moment. “I should have brought her to meet you sooner really.”

Agape waved a dismissive hand.

“You’re a busy girl Kassandra. I hear about all your exploits,” Kassandra looked even more awkward for a moment and Phoibe struggled to repress a smile. “Hunting wolves, keeping the peace in Sami, tracking bandits.”

Kassandra was obviously relieved at this particular catalogue of her doings, but Agape had turned towards Phoibe and her face was serious.

“Phoibe, child,” she took her hand again. “I hope it won’t upset you too much if I say how very sorry I am about what happened to your parents. Life is hard and doesn’t get any easier the longer it goes on. But it shouldn’t have been so hard, so soon, for either of you,” she glanced at Kassandra.

Phoibe was quiet for a moment. Although everyone, certainly in Sami, and probably on the island knew what had happened, very few people had ever mentioned it in her presence.

“Thank you,” she said at last. “That’s very kind of you to say. I was lucky it happened on Kephallonia really, where Kassandra was.”

“Indeed, indeed,” Agape patted her shoulder. “I don’t suppose you happen to like lemon biscuits, do you? Kassandra is very fond of them, but I’m sure she won’t mind sharing.”

“I love biscuits,” Phoibe grinned. “And lemons. So lemon biscuits sound delicious. But we’ve got something for you too,” she remembered the chickens.

Agape was surprised and delighted to see her birds again, all of which turned out to have names. She was surprised and disbelieving to hear that Markos was in any way behind their return.

A little later as she stood with Agape, feeding scraps to her handsome goat, Phoibe noticed Kassandra sidle off to the barn with the sack of corn over her shoulder.

Agape bent and whispered in Phoibe’s ear, playfully conspiratorial.

“She thinks I don’t know what she does. I humour her.”

Kassandra was a little confused when she joined them a few minutes later, sauntering round from the other side of the house with almost theatrical casualness.

“She’s a terrible liar,” Phoibe hissed quietly.

“Dreadful, simply dreadful,” Agape laughed.

“What are you two so amused about?” Kassandra arched a wary eyebrow.

“Nothing much really,” Phoibe grinned. “This is a very entertaining goat.”

“All right, little one, that’s enough sun for you today, clearly,” Kassandra patted her shoulder. “We need to make a move, I have to be back in time to get to work, there’s a trade ship moored apparently, things will be busy.”

They walked together to the cart, Kassandra eyed Agape’s gate as they passed.

“That top brace needs replacing, the hinge too I suspect. I’ll see it gets sorted out next week.”

“You’re a good girl Kassandra,” Agape stopped and placed a wrinkled hand between her breasts. “You’re good in _here._ Never mind what people say,” she patted her chest.

Phoibe was amused to see the hot blush that crept up Kassandra’s jaw.

“No need to be bashful,” Agape laughed. “I’m a widow, not a maiden. I understand. And you, young Phoibe,” she turned to her and handed over a large cloth package of sweet smelling lemon biscuits. “It’s been a pleasure to meet you. If you want to come and visit with the chickens, or indeed with an old lady, you are welcome any time you like.”

“Thank you,” she nodded. “I will do, I promise. And thank you for the biscuits.”

Kassandra was weary enough to chance riding the donkey cart back. She climbed up cautiously and settled herself in the centre of the seat. This resulted in the minimum of swaying, though the creaks were a bit unnerving.

“You’re going to have to sit in my lap, Phoibe,” she watched her feed a biscuit to Ajax before coming to climb up. “If all the weight’s in the middle and we don’t move too much, we should be fine.”

They rode in silence for a while. The only noises the rustle of the biscuit bag, the crunch of gravel and the occasional, almost musical fart from Ajax.

“You shouldn’t have given him those biscuits,” Kassandra grimaced.

“It’s not stopping you from eating them, I notice,” Phoibe fished another out of the bag.

“Obviously it’s just donkeys they do that to,” Kassandra popped a whole one in her mouth and grinned. “At least I hope so, Selene will make me stand in the yard otherwise.”

“Agape is a very nice lady,” Phoibe decided to take advantage of her good humour. “And her farm is lovely, very well kept. Not like Markos’.”

“There’s nothing about her that’s like Markos,” Kassandra snorted, sending a flurry of biscuit crumbs over Phoibe’s head. She decided to let it pass for now.

“Everything is very nicely maintained really, considering. People must help her, I suppose? She can’t possibly do all that on her own,” she fished wildly.

“People help Agape because she’s a nice lady who helps people when she can,” Kassandra said quietly. “In fact,” she added after some thought. “If you ever find yourself with time to spare and Markos doesn’t grab hold of it with both hands, you could do worse than help her around the place now and again, even if it’s just to keep her company. She enjoyed chatting with you.”

“I was thinking about doing that actually,” Phoibe chewed thoughtfully. “The pop door on her chicken shed, the runners could be better. I think I could sort that out for her.”

She waited hopefully, but Kassandra seemed to have given as much as she was going to today. All the same Phoibe felt like the whole experience had been like a confidence shared somehow. She felt Kassandra deserved something in return. Besides which, guilt was weighing heavily upon her.

There was a long, rather awkward silence. Kassandra could feel that Phoibe was on the verge of saying something, her body had tensed and her breathing was uneven. More of a give away, she’d stopped eating the biscuits even though the bag was clearly still half full.

Eventually she broke the silence herself.

“She didn’t upset you did she? Bringing up your mater and pater?”

“No, no,” Phoibe sounded sincere as she shook her head. “It was a surprise at first, but, no, it was nice to talk about it really. People usually pretend like it didn’t happen. I suppose it makes things less awkward.”

Kassandra put an arm about her waist and pulled her closer, using the roughness of the path as an excuse. Emboldened by the hug Phoibe made a decision.

“Kassandra. I...I want to tell you something. But I’m worried you’ll be cross about it.”

“Oh?” Kassandra said, carefully neutral. “Well you can tell me anything Phoibe. Or ask me anything. I can’t, truthfully, promise that I won’t get cross,” she decided that honesty was probably the best policy. “Because I do lose my temper, I know. But, when I’ve finished being an ass about whatever it is, I can promise that I’ll try and understand. And whatever it is, it won’t alter the way I feel about you. I promise that.”

It wasn’t the most eloquent of speeches she admitted, but all the same she waited hopefully for Phoibe to continue. Eventually she heard her take a huge breath and suddenly blurt out.

“That wasn’t General Buck-Buck that you killed!”

“It wasn’t?” Kassandra frowned, puzzled. “I...then who was it?”

Had she killed someone else’s rooster?

“Well...it was and it wasn’t I suppose,” Phoibe was wriggling a little in her lap. “I suppose it was General Buck-Buck the second.”

Kassandra considered this for a few moments, she ate another biscuit while she thought.

“Sooo?” she swallowed and sucked her teeth clean. “What happened to General Buck-Buck the first?”

The next few moment’s silence brought a new meaning to her understanding of the word awkward. For a while she thought that maybe that was all she was getting. That Phoibe was just going to throw out the mystery and leave it to hang.

“I killed him!” Phoibe admitted suddenly, her voice sounded a little thick. “I didn’t mean to. I swear. It was an accident.”

“Okay, okay,” Kassandra stroked her hair. “There’s no need to get upset about it. You’ve killed chickens before, no?”

“Yes,” she sniffed. “Old ones, when they’ve stopped laying. For the pot. Quickly...well this was quick actually, but that was just lucky...not for the General...well lucky in a way...luckier than if it hadn’t been quick.”

“Right, right,” Kassandra soothed, trying to get her back on track. “When did this happen? How long has the General been an impostor? Does this mean _two_ roosters have given me scars?” she frowned considering this development.

“Yes?” Phoibe ventured. “Is that worse?”

“I’m not sure honestly,” Kassandra admitted.

“It was… you remember that storm when the tiles blew off Selene’s bath room?”

Kassandra did indeed remember that. If her misthios work ever fell through, she’d be able to earn a passable living as a tiler.

“You were there, fixing that. And Markos had gone out...helping people,” Phoibe sniffed wetly and wiped her nose on the back of her hand.

Kassandra checked her pocket for a handkerchief, came up empty.

“We both know what Markos means when he talks about helping people, right?” she emptied the last few biscuits into Phoibe’s lap, shook the crumbs out of the cloth bag and offered her that to wipe her eyes and nose. “Exploiting and helping aren’t the same thing, you know that.”

“Yes, I know,” Phoibe blew her nose and crammed the re-purposed bag into her pocket. “Well he told me to put the chickens away, cos the yard was full of rubbish and stuff that we didn’t want them to get into. And I know I should have locked the door back properly, but it was windy still and raining a bit and stuff was blowing round...and...the door fell on him.”

“Oh!” Kassandra said carefully, eyebrows raised. “Well, quick, like you said. What did you do?”

“I knew Markos was going to be furious,” Phoibe shrugged. “I had a few coins, not enough to pay for a rooster. But he was a really big chicken, remember?”

“I do indeed,” Kassandra rubbed her leg ruefully.

“So I decided I’d take him into town and sell him to the butcher and see if that would get me enough, and the butcher could see I was upset, and he said he had lots of roosters that no one wanted and he’d swap me one for the General,” Phoibe was breaking up one of the biscuits into smaller pieces, nibbling absently.

“I went round to his place and his wife let me pick one that looked most like the General. He wasn’t as big because he was a lot younger, but...well Markos isn’t very observant and you don’t know much about chickens, so I just said he’d lost weight cos the storm had scared him and...no one noticed...and then he got massive himself and he was just as bad tempered and he hated you just as much. There was nothing _to_ notice.”

She tailed off and sat quietly for a while, breaking up another biscuit. Eventually Kassandra laughed heartily, rubbing Phoibe’s head fondly.

“Well done, Phoibe,” she chuckled. “The perfect crime.”

“You won’t tell Markos will you?”

“Phoibe, I wouldn’t tell Markos if it was raining, much less tell him anything _you_ didn’t want him to know,” she shook her head. “All the same, I’m sorry I killed the impostor General. That was an accident too. Not quite as clean as yours. And I didn’t think to go swap him for a live one, though I’m a bit surprised Clio didn’t think of that.”

“Why Clio?” Phoibe frowned, confused.

“No reason,” Kassandra evaded. “I’m sorry I ruined your egg production scheme, scam, I’m not sure what it was really.”

“Oh we couldn’t breed giant eggs!” Phoibe laughed.

“I knew it,” Kassandra grinned and punched her thigh. “I knew that was a load of old bollocks.”

“No, we _could_ ,” Phoibe corrected. “Not like Markos meant though. I think the overall idea would work, but I’m sure you’d need more than one rooster and a half dozen hens. And it would take _way_ more time than he thought it would. But I think you probably could if you were careful and patient. But we couldn’t do it anyway, I mean we’d have ended up with more eggs than even you could eat, and then he would have started selling them and Widow Agape, well, that’s like her living, right?”

“Wait, now I’m confused,” Kassandra had been confused for a while now, but she wasn’t about to let on. “You sounded so...eager about it all? That was all pretend?”

“Pretty much,” Phoibe seemed in far better humour now the secret was off her chest. She was eating another biscuit, the last one lay in her lap. “It was for Markos really. He’d been so miserable, hadn’t you noticed?”

“Markos?” Kassandra snorted. “He’s never the embodiment of merriment around me anyway, unless he’s just seen me fall off a roof or something,” she scowled.

“Yes, I suppose so,” Phoibe considered. “You two have issues. But he really was miserable. After his donkey to your door scheme collapsed.”

“You mean after Zanita threatened to break both his arms and tie them in a bow if he tried to move in on her business?” Kassandra laughed at the memory.

“I think that was the last straw yeah,” Phoibe nodded. “He was so sad, and he’s just...pathetic when he’s sad. I was collecting the eggs one morning and just sort of thinking aloud about how it would be great if we could get as many eggs just bigger ones and he was so excited about it all. His face just lit up and I didn’t have the heart to tell him it wouldn’t really work like that.”

“Well let that be a lesson to you about indulging him,” Kassandra was delighted by the whole thing, even the scar on her ass seemed like an amusing souvenir now.

“It seemed harmless,” Phoibe shook her head and broke the last biscuit into two pieces, handing one to Kassandra. “It wasn’t going to work and he has the mind of a grasshopper, I knew he’d get bored with it all, long before any eggs came along.”

They were approaching the gate now, Kassandra climbed down to lead Ajax across the yard. The sun was a bit lower than she’d have preferred. She’d have to jog to Selene’s.

As they approached Ajax’s stable something occurred to her and she turned back to look at Phoibe.

“Hang on a minute,” she raised a finger. “You tried to get me to buy two of your overpriced magical chickens!”

“Did I?” Phoibe hopped down from the cart. “When did that happen?” she was all innocence as she took the reins from Kassandra’s hand.

“When we were in the cart going to the dock, you little rat!” Kassandra put her hands on her hips and glared down her nose at Phoibe’s apologetic grin. “It’s not too late to get in on the ground floor, you said! You’d have sold two to Zanita as well if Markos hadn’t butted in, you treacherous little weasel,” she laughed despite herself.

“I knew you’d say no,” Phoibe threw out her arms in a gesture disturbingly reminiscent of Markos. “And I’m sure I wouldn’t have charged you full price if you’d said yes. Gods, look at the sun, Kassandra! You’re going to be late for work,” she evaded. “Tell you what, I’ll sort out Ajax for you, no problem, then you can get off to work eh?”

“A viper in my very bosom,” Kassandra gave her a playful cuff around the ear as she passed.

“Kassandra!” Phoibe yelled as she vaulted over the wall and prepared to set off at a steady run for Selene’s.

“Hmm?” she turned back and saw her standing by the stable, Ajax unhitched now, nuzzling against her as she rubbed his ears.

“Just so you know. When we were catching Agape’s birds? I just wanted to impress you with my chicken handling skills. They actually have a little thread around their ankle.” 

Kassandra shook her head and smiled. Markos was going to wind up running errands for Phoibe pretty soon, she thought. It would serve him right.


End file.
